


used to catch me in your bedsheets

by likelightning



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-13 16:11:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 33,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2156931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likelightning/pseuds/likelightning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She does the only thing she’s ever known how to do: she loves Hope and she lets Hope love her in what little, sweet and complicated ways they can manage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from Shakey Graves' _Dearly Departed_. Thanks to my pretty amazing betas, _sassauerbrunn_ and _soccer-krash_.

“I mean you ask me  
not to fall in love with you  
and then you go write poems  
with your tongue  
and draw constellations  
in my freckles.”  
\- _clementine von radics_

"But my family doesn’t do happy endings. We do sad endings or frustrated endings or no endings at all.”  
\- _hope solo_

 

_june, 2011._

_somewhere over the pacific ocean_.

The quiet hum of the plane starts to lull Kelley to sleep again.

She turns her face into the pillow she’s awkwardly fit between her and the headrest.The floppy rectangle shifts under her cheek, slippery as ever. She presses in closer.

She shouldn’t have slept through most of the first flight. But that plane had been quiet and familiar, a quick jet from one edge of the U.S. to the other, and she’d drifted off on Alex’s shoulder. This plane is different. It buzzes with the excitement of its passengers, a constant energy underneath the quiet hum. Every time Kelley shuts her eyes, all she can hear is the murmurs of her teammates and strains of different languages.

She opens her eyes.

Beside her, Alex shuts her paper book novel. She smoothes one hand over the cover. Her face is shadowed by the reading light above her head.

“Finished already?” Alex shakes her head.

“Bathroom break. I’ll be right back.” She tucks her book down into the pocket in front of her then slips out of her seat and into the aisle.

Kelley slouches further down in her chair, her knees almost bumping up against the seat in front of her. Outside, the clouds obscure her view. A heavy curtain of white fuzz hangs in the air around the plane.

She shuts her eyes again.

-

Hope taps her fingers against the armrest. Her back is ram rod straight, a plank against the seat, and she stares at the headrest in front of her. Her mind is far away.

Tobin taps her on the arm and her gaze shoots left.

Tobin’s hand is held up, offering half of a protein bar in a torn wrapper. Her eyes are calm. Hope manages an imitation of a smile that comes off as more of a grimace, but she takes the food. She munches down, barely tasting it, and swallows.

A full day of flying coast to coast to coast. The way airplanes smell like the inside of an old woman’s closet. The caffeine crash from her airport Americano that now seems like a hallucination. The way she can’t stop thinking about her breathing.

But at least Tobin isn’t saying stupid things like “are you okay?” or “we’re halfway there”. She just hands over the bar and turns back to the window. Hope takes another bite, her teeth tearing into the thin layer of chocolate as if it had personally offended her.

“Hey, sorry Hope.” Alex Morgan crouches down beside her seat, one hand holding the armrest. She smiles at Hope before turning her attention to Tobin. “Do you have that poker game on you?”

“Oh, yeah.” Tobin starts digging through her backpack. An older man is coming down the aisle, eyeing Alex like she’s an obstacle on his way to the bathroom. Hope rolls her eyes and edges out of her seat and around Alex.

“I’ll be right back.” She says. She hasn’t made it two steps before Alex claims her seat, edging in close to peek over Tobin’s shoulder and into her book bag.

On her way down the aisle, Hope tugs on Carli’s eye mask. Carli’s uncoordinated hands come up to blindly swat her away. Hope grins.

-

When Hope walks out of the bathroom, the plane jolts. She puts both hands on the doorframe, her heart suddenly racing. It makes her head feel wild and fuzzy, the rush of adrenaline makes her feel sick. _Fuck_. She thinks. She needs to get back to her seat.

She takes two steps down the aisle before the plane rocks again and this time her hands find the back of a seat. Above her, the intercom crackles to life. The pilot’s voice fuzzes through the speakers

“We’re experiencing slight turbulence. Please take your seat and buckle in.”

Seven rows ahead, Alex is in Hope’s seat, turned back and looking for her. Their eyes meet just as a hand grabs Hope’s wrist and gently pulls her down into an empty seat.

When Hope follows the hand on her wrist to its owner, she finds Kelley O’Hara haloed against the bright white of the clouds behind her.

Kelley releases her wrist and reaches back for her seatbelt.

“I need an airplane buddy, mine’s abandoned me.” Kelley says, struggling to pull her seatbelt down over her shoulder. If she’s noticed the panic in Hope’s eyes, she doesn’t comment on it.

Hope doesn’t answer. She pulls her own seatbelt down over her shoulder and clicks it into place. Her hands rub against her thighs nervously. Her heart is beating loudly.

The silence drags on. The plane rocks back and forth, each tilt like a skipped heart beat in Hope’s chest. Hope can see Kelley out of the corner of her eye. She feels like she’s waiting for something. Finally, Hope speaks.

“I don’t like flying.” She says shortly. The grip she has on the armrest between them doesn’t belie that fact. She looks over at Kelley, as if expecting her to laugh.

Kelley doesn’t laugh. She nods.

“Do you want to play poker with me?” In her hands is a bright red handheld poker game. Hope stares at it. Then she stares at Kelley.

After a moment, she decides anything is better than this sick feeling in her chest.

“Okay.”

-

Somehow poker turns into watching _Where the Wild Things Are_ while the seatbelt sign still glows orange above them. The movie entrances them both and when Kelley laughs out loud at the dumbest parts, Hope looks over at her and grins. Her heartbeat begins to slow. The lights are off in the cabin and the turbulence is unnoticeable now. The credits roll. Kelley offers Hope a handful of trail mix from under their thin blue shared airplane blanket.

Somehow, Hope’s heart has calmed. She feels the adrenaline seep out of her body, leaving her tired and drained.

Somewhere into the second movie, Hope falls asleep. Five minutes later, her head tilts down onto Kelley’s shoulder. Her breathing becomes soft and slow and her long dark lashes flutter against her cheekbones. Her cheek is warm on the edge of Kelley's shoulder. Every now and then, her fingers twitch against her knee. This close, Kelley can just smell the scent of her shampoo.

Kelley pinpoints this as the moment Hope goes from intimidating to interesting.

When the seatbelt sign turns off and Alex comes back to her seat, Kelley holds a finger to her lips. The cabin is still dim. She gives Alex a helpless look. Hope is still asleep against her shoulder, blanket pulled up to her shoulders, and before Kelley can stop her Alex has her phone aimed at the two of them. Kelley makes a face, Alex’s phone shutters, and the moment is captured.

Hope doesn’t stir.

 

_austria._

Kelley sits in the grass at the corner of the pitch, the soles of her feet pressed together and her legs pulled up into butterfly wings. Her hands rest on her ankles. The grass is still warm from the sun.

Over the mountains, the sun is setting in a wash of red. She rests her chin on her fist and watches it go. The rustle of the wind in the hills is the only sound across the field. That, and the crunch of cleats behind her.

“Hey.” Lauren drops down at Kelley’s side. She pulls her knees up to her chest and looks up at the sky. It reminds Kelley of watching the sun set during practice at Stanford. There was no time to rest then; she usually caught the glow of the sun disappearing and what seemed like moments later the sky was dark. The stadium lights would glow unnaturally on the grass. She always liked soccer best at night. The lights like tiny suns, throwing everything into stark, surreal contrast. The grass seems greener, the net seems whiter.

“I miss home.” Comes out of Kelley’s mouth.

She wouldn’t be able to admit that to anyone else.

“Me too.” Lauren agrees. “It’s beautiful here though.”

It is. It’s beautiful and nerve wracking and important, and it’s a lot to take in with no warning. Sometimes, right before she falls asleep, Kelley thinks to herself: _I don’t belong here_.

She won’t admit that to anyone.

Kelley laces her fingers behind her head and lies back in the grass. She doesn’t feel much like talking today. Cheney stands and brushes grass off her shorts.

“Don’t stay out here too long or you’ll be walking back.”

“Okay Chen-mom.” Kelley hears her crunch off the field and towards the field house. She doesn’t have to see the eye roll to know it occurred.

The sun continues its slow descent. Kelley closes her eyes and listens to nothing. After a few minutes, the murmur of voices and dropped bags reaches her. She sits back up.

On the other side of the field, Paul and the goalkeepers trudge back onto the pitch. The lights are starting to buzz and flicker on around the field. Kelley watches Hope readjust the straps on her gloves. The move should be awkward, but on Hope it’s practiced and deft. She turns her head toward Paul and her ponytail whips behind her.

Kelley thinks about Hope asleep on her shoulder; about how wide eyed she looked on the plane. In front of the goal, knees bent in preparation for Paul’s shot, she looks nothing but at home.

Kelley climbs to her feet and, sock-footed, walks off into the locker room.

 

_july, 2011._

_wolfsburg, germany_

Kelley locks herself out on her own balcony, which seems like a fitting end to the week.

With a sigh, she drops her forehead to the glass and shuts her eyes. It’s mid-morning of an off day after their match the day before and it’s unlikely anyone will come looking for her for a while. She opens her eyes and glares accusingly at the cell phone sitting in the middle of the bed. Her cell phone. Which should be on this side of the glass with her.

Finally, she turns around and walks back over to the chair in the corner. She assumes the same position that had her out here in the first place: knees up against her chest, arms wrapped around her legs, eyes focused somewhere on the horizon. Kelley knows she shouldn’t dwell, but she rationalizes it as an attempt at improvement. If she doesn’t understand why she fell apart during the match last night, how will she be able to fix it?

So she replays it over in her head. The slip, the poor pass, the missed tackle. She thinks about the pit in her stomach after each one and she feels it anew, that sick embarrassment and disappointment.

Not her best match, that’s for damn sure. Her chance to shine and she tripped and fell. Her shoulders sag. Reliving and studying and understanding is one thing, but now she’s locked out here with her thoughts and none of them are good. She doesn’t do panic but it’s itching between her ribs when she hears the glass door slide open. Her head pops up.

“What are you doing out here?” Mittsy asks, poking her head around the glass door. Kelley looks at her with wide eyes.

“Uh. I’m not locked out or anything.”

“Oh, okay.” Mittsy shrugs, feigning disinterest, and turns back around. She gets one hand on the door handle but Kelley is too quick. She manages to push half her shoulder through the door before Mittsy has a chance to pull it closed.

“I’ve been out here for days!” Kelley protests, trying to shift her hips inside. “I’ve trained two squirrels to bring me food!” That makes Mittsy laugh enough to let go and Kelley sighs with relief when the cool air of the hotel room hits her.

Something about the twinkle in Heather’s eye promises that this is _not_ going to stay between the two of them.

“Can’t leave you children alone for two seconds.” Heather shakes her head. “I came to ask if you wanted to get an extra training session in. You weren’t answering your phone, although now I see why.”

Kelley perks up. Maybe a couple decent shots and tackles today will help wash the memory of last night’s mistakes from her brain.

“For sure.” She says, already trying to remember where some clean clothes are.

“Meet us downstairs in fifteen.” Mittsy calls over her shoulder as she walks out. She leaves Kelley in the empty hotel room, but the promise of soccer is already improving Kelley’s mood. She’ll never understand how soccer is both the injury and the rehab; the source of the pain and its salve. Soccer is all things good and bad in her life: joy and sorrow, opportunities and disappointments. It may be difficult, but she counts herself lucky to call it her career.Whatever form it may take.

Even if that form is digging for clean socks through a pile of grass-stained training gear.

Kelley wrinkles her nose.

 

 _dresden, germany_.

Kelley rides the bench like that’s what she’s been training for the past fifteen years of her soccer career. She rides the bench like it’s a legendary bull in the World Cup rodeo. She rides the bench and she makes the bench her friend and her confidant and sometimes her bitch. She embraces her role as a cheerleader.

But she never rides the bench quite as hard as she does in their game against Brazil: both feet up in her seat, two hands wrapped around the edge, on her feet and then off her feet, fists raised to the air.

And she never loves someone quite the way she loves Hope Solo at the end of that match. Like a switch being flipped, she feels the roar of a twenty thousand people and it reverberates in her chest like a gong being struck. Their emotion, their excitement- it’s hers too and it’s hers to express in the flying of her feet over the pitch with a swarm of her teammates.

The swell of feeling that sweeps that stadium is bigger than the stadium itself. It’s bigger than the team, than the cup. She can feel it ringing out in her parents’ house across the ocean. This is their win; this is _her_ win. And Hope has kept them alive.

Hope is joy embodied in that moment, her eyes like lights, and all Kelley can think as she streaks across the grass is: _you did it_. And then her arms are around Hope and Hope’s arms are around her and that feeling is a chord struck from country to country but she’s buried in the sound, Hope damp and wild in her arms. Her head doesn’t even reach Hope’s chin. She’d cry if she wasn’t so damn happy.

She hears Hope yell, something totally raw and real, and she releases her to pull back and see that smile for herself. Hope’s eyes meet hers, bright and electric in a way that makes Kelley’s breath catch, oddly, and then she’s passed on to the next teammate, everyone reaching for a touch, a hug, a congratulations. Kelley gets swept into Lauren’s arms and her eyes finally fill.

They’ve done it. She’s here at the World Cup and they’re moving on and she can already feel the heavy weight of that medal around her neck.

She has no doubt that this is exactly where she’s meant to be.

 

 

_frankfurt, germany._

The medal is heavy around her neck.

She clutches it with one hand, the other brushing gold flakes from her shoulder, and trudges off the field.


	2. part one

_september, 2011._

_san francisco, california_

Two months after the World Cup, Kelley sets her bare feet on California sand again. The waves are big like they’ve been waiting for her. She stops halfway to the water and lets her board tip down into the sand. Clouds fly out into the ocean. Wind whips against her wetsuit, sticking sand to the damp material.

She never feels more like a stranger than out on the beach by herself.

She could be anyone here. Anyone she wants: back at Stanford, practicing environmental law, someone’s girlfriend, someone’s mom. The ocean doesn’t care that she couldn’t help her team win a World Cup. The ocean doesn’t care at all. The ocean only laps continuously at the shore, in small waves and big waves, in predictable exchanges of salt water.

Out here, she can be whoever she wants.

The water’s freezing when she steps in but the temperature exhilarates her. She’s almost used to it by now. At the first spray of cold against her face, her mouth curves up. The waves are crashing and she dips under an especially high one. The cold water knocks the breath from her and she emerges to suck in a deep breath of warmer air.

A few strokes later, she’s out past the breakers and her face is growing numb. She shifts to sit up on her board and looks past the waves to the mostly empty shore. Just beyond the parking lot, the sun creeps over the buildings. The low crash and fuzz on the shoreline disappears into white noise. All she hears is the morning, fresh with possibilities and beauty.

It’s impossible to be sad or disappointed when her world contains this.

 

_portland, oregon._

“Hope? Oh, I don’t know. Maybe.” Ali tilts her head to the side, the glass of wine in her hand dipping and sloshing with the motion. “Probably not.”

“But maybe.” Tobin echoes. She’s cutting up her chicken and half-pretending not to listen, but she can’t resist egging on Kelley’s crush.

Ali’s eyes are warm and curious when they lock onto Kelley’s.

“Why?”

“I mean, why not?” Kelley half-mumbles. She hides her embarrassed flush with another sip of wine.

The wheels turn in Ali’s eyes and something clicks. Her eyes widen.

“Oh my god, no.” Ali is half-horrified, half-amused. Their waiter returns with their second bottle of wine. He cracks it open with flourish and leaves it in the middle of the table. As soon as he leaves, Ali squints at Kelley. “But, Hope?”

“I mean, you know: the arms, the eyes, the attitude.” Kelley lifts her shoulders, palms up.

“The crazy?” Ali finishes. Kelley has to laugh.

“Kelley’s been watching Dancing with the Stars.” Tobin adds.

“You haven’t.”

“I…might have.”

“Oh my god, Ashlyn’s gonna love this.”

“Do not.” Kelley says, lifting a hand. “Do not tell Ashlyn.” Ali’s eyes are sparkling though. “Please.” Kelley tacks on. Somehow she doesn’t think it’ll help.

But Ali just laughs.

“I’m just supporting a teammate! It’s good for women’s soccer?” The excuse sounds weak even to Kelley’s ears and she has to laugh when Tobin gives her a look. “Okay, I may be slightly more superficial in my motivations. But can you blame me?”

“Yes.” Tobin and Ali respond at the same time. Kelley knows there’s no winning this argument, the same way she knows there’s no good reason for her to have a crush on the ostensibly straight Hope Solo. She shrugs.

They drop the subject and dinner winds down. On the way out the door, hugs are exchanged and promises made, and Ali can’t help calling after Kelley as she walks down the street.

“Have fun watching Dancing with the Stars tonight.”

Kelley doesn’t turn, just lifts one finger to the air and smiles, thankful they can’t see the embarrassed flush on her face.

 

_january, 2012._

_vancouver, canada._

The new year rings in with promise.

Vancouver in January is deep set cold and snow. They arrive at the hotel in a sea of blue and beanies, their voices muted and their many bags stacked on trolleys. Soccer has taken over the place, assembled collections of players and coaches and trainers and media milling about. They overrun the lobby, scattered and sharing seats, staring at their phones. The Olympic qualifiers loom ahead.

They‘re in town early for training. Their group seems impenetrable to any random passerby; tight knit and comfortable. Over the past few months they’ve banded together in a wave of red and white stripes: a united front, elbows interlocked, with something to prove. An abundance of post-World Cup admiration and support still follows them from their country, warm and proud. It makes the Canadian cold easier.

It’s amazing how much of a family they’ve become, how tight the ties that bind are. Home. Kelley has no other word to describe the way it feels to fill up the team bus with chatter, to sit down together for dinner every night. It’s different than Austria, than Germany, where she had wrestled with the futility and the luck of her place on the team. A replacement, a bench warmer, a holding spot. Words that had been tossed as insults for as long as she could remember and which she had tried to embrace.

It’s different in Vancouver. She belongs.

They have three days before their opening match against the Dominican Republic. Training promises to be brutal, icy cold and intense. They’re a team, a set of twenty players, but they’re jostling for positions and starting privileges, trying to shed or retain their spots from their last tournament. They’re on the edge of something.

They just need the perfectly timed push.

-

Hope follows Christie down the padded hallway to the hotel elevator. She’s tying her hair into a ponytail and trying to walk at the same time she’s listening to Christie talk. Carli follows close behind, staring down at her phone.

Christie jams the down button and shrugs.

“And that’s why Rylie can’t watch the Bachelor.”

Hope thinks maybe she shouldn’t laugh but she can’t really help it. Carli glances up from her phone.

“Maybe you shouldn’t let her eat and watch the Bachelor.” Hope suggests. Carli squints at them.

“What?”

Hope rolls her eyes and Christie starts the story again. They ride down by themselves, one of the benefits of being early for a team meeting. The conference room is dark but a handful of coaches are gathered at front. They gravitate to the corner and Hope leans back against the wall, only half listening to Christie and Carli talk.

The rest of the team trickles in in pairs and groups, some dressed up in preparation for their evening off. Hope has a book and an empty hotel room waiting for her. The sweet promise of quiet and solitude is beckoning to her. She slouches further back against the wall and folds her arms across her chest. She’s counting players and wondering when the meeting is going to start when she catches sight of Kelley.

She knows who she is. She’s played with her on-and-off for years; spent two months in Germany with her and the weight of the world on their shoulders.

She knows who she is but she catches a glimpse of her from across the room and doesn’t look away. The straight honey brown hair that cuts across her face when she turns to make an outrageous face at something Alex has said; the scarf curled around her neck that Hope is actually envious of; the way she laughs with her whole body bent forward, nose crinkled.

Hope watches Kelley grip Tobin’s arm for emphasis and can’t tear her eyes away.

“Hey.” Carli appears at her shoulder. “Let’s grab a seat.” She’s already leading the way towards the back row of chairs and Hope steals one glance back at Kelley. She’s still laughing and her shirt is cream-colored and she’s-- beautiful, Hope realizes suddenly.

She’s staring because she’s beautiful.

-

After the team meeting, Tobin, Alex and Kelley take a cab into the heart of the city. They wander but with a purpose: a warm restaurant, something spicy, somewhere nice. But after ten minutes of walking, their standards have been whittled down to: somewhere warm.

After dinner, Kelley shrugs back into her coat. On the way out the door she pockets a couple mints from the bowl on the hostess’ stand. She slips through the front door and into a wall of blasting cold.

“Brrr.” She mumbles, shoving her hands into her coat pockets and jogging to catch up with Alex and Tobin. Her arms are trapped and swinging awkwardly in her coat sleeves. When she reaches Alex, she bumps up against her shoulder.

“Fuck it’s cold.” Alex has her arms crossed tight across her chest. “Why did we leave the hotel again?”

“Food.” Tobin answers. Her teeth are chattering hard enough that she struggles to talk through them. Alex hooks her arm through Tobin’s and pulls her closer.

“Let’s go in there.” Kelley says, pointing to a square of yellow light across the street. The shop window is filled with hanging scarves and bracelets. Kelley has a thing for scarves and bracelets. They hurry in, leaving smushed footprints in the dirty snow. The warmth and light of the shop envelops them as the bell tinkles above their head. They stamp their boots off on the mat by the door.

Tobin immediately wanders off to the woven bracelets in the corner. Alex follows Kelley to the earrings. Lifting a pair to her ears, Kelley pulls a face. She blinks her eyelashes up at Alex.

“So, what do you think?”

“Stunning.” Alex taps the bottom of one dangling earring. “You should get them.”

Kelley takes them away from her ears to look at them again.

“I have no idea what I’d wear them with.”

“That dress you bought in L.A.?” Alex is fiddling with her own pair. Kelley knows exactly what dress she’s talking about: short, dark green and gorgeous. Alex had practically pushed her to the register with it.

“I doubt that dress is going to make an appearance for a while.”

Alex looks at her.

“Why not?”

“Lack of occasion?” Kelley shrugs. “That’s definitely a date dress.”

“So go on a date.” Alex says simply.

“Oh, go on a date. Yeah, let me just call one of the many girls waiting to take me on a date.”

“What about that girl in-” Tobin sidles up to Alex’s side, interrupting her. On her face is a pair of vintage, round sunglasses with rose-colored lenses. With a similarly colored scarf draped around her shoulders and a droopy, relaxed look on her face, she looks straight out of the free love movement. Or possibly like Professor Trewlaney.

“Who’s going on a date?” She interrupts. Alex turns to her and bursts into laughter.

“Where did you find those?”

“Dude, there’s like all different colors.” Tobin leads Alex across the shop. Kelley’s thumb slips against the earrings in her hand. She gives them one last look, then hooks them back onto the display.

Ten minutes later, they’re spilling out of the shop again, trading brightly colored glasses that turn the snow different shades. Their laughter keeps the cold off.

-

Their first training session is in a bubble. The snow hasn’t let up since they flew in and they trudge through a thick layer of it to the entrance of the tent. Inside the temporary building, it’s warm and contained. All the green turf and yellow light is surreal after a blinding field of white. Kelley drops her bag to the turf and shrugs off her jacket.

“Boots on, let’s get warmed up ladies!”

Kelley has to sit down to tug her sneakers off. The white material of the practice bubble curves up over all of them and catches the yellow halos of the artificial lights dotted across the center beam. It reminds her of the greenhouse at Stanford, but with far less grass and steam. She finishes lacing her cleats and stands back up, takes an experimental hop. She bounces down the sideline to Pinoe and Lori.

“Still winning.” Pinoe is grunting, her feet sliding farther and farther apart as she sinks into a split. Lori shoots her a look and stretches a little further, but Megan’s right- she’s definitely winning.

“Please.” Cheney says, stalking over between them. She sends Megan a look and sinks into a perfect split, stretching her hands out to reach her ankles. Pinoe makes a face, equal parts impressed and disturbed.

“I got this.” Abby stops in front of them and starts to slide. She gets about halfway to the ground before tumbling forward. Lori seems to be stuck with just her hands supporting her, her elbows locked.

“Uhh guys.” Lori tries to push herself back up. HAO picks Lori up beneath her arms and lifts her into a standing position; not an easy feat for someone taller than you.

To Kelley’s left, Hope is wrapping her hands while she watches Pinoe make ballet arms. Kelley sidles up to her.

"I think this is how you pull a groin muscle." Kelley comments. Hope shakes her head. She almost looks amused. "I'll give it a go if you will." Hope’s mouth turns up at the challenge. She glances once at Kelley.

“After the tournament. You can show me what you’ve got.”

Her eyes are teasing when she gives Kelley one last look before walking away.

“I’ll hold you to that!” Kelley calls after her. Her voice is louder than she intended. Hope doesn’t turn. But then there’s a ball at her feet and other things to worry about than the crinkle around Hope’s eyes when she’s smiling.

-

Somehow they cobble together a yoga session in the hotel’s conference room. The borrowed yoga mats are plastic and hard. Kelley tries not to smell them. Pinoe and Lori put on a dramatic jousting match with two of the mats rolled up tight, complete with interspersed fencing terms and fake horses. It ends with Megan clutching one mat under her arm and dying dramatically on the patterned carpet while Mittsy holds Lori’s fist up in victory.

The onlookers clap dutifully.

In the shuffle of getting fifteen women into somewhat organized lines, Kelley loses track of Amy, her roommate, and somehow gets pushed into the last row. It isn’t exactly where she’s comfortable- she’s a firm third row sitter in almost all situations- but when she looks to her right, Hope is rolling her mat out beside her.

She doesn’t realize she’s essentially watching her do this until Hope glances up and catches her. Kelley suddenly finds it hard to swallow. She looks away.

There’s a look in Hope’s eyes sometimes, like she can see directly through you. Some part of Kelley needs to look away, to shy back from that intensity, but she’s finding that a larger part of her wants to return the gaze. Needs to either be found wanting or measure up.

The yoga instructor begins the class, her voice gentle, and Kelley sinks into position. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Hope do the same. They go through each transition until Kelley is balancing on one hand, her body sideways, her eyes trained to the back of Hope’s head. Her gaze trails from the curve of Hope’s shoulders down to her waist. Her t-shirt has rucked up against her hips and Kelley stares at the line of exposed skin, then the curve of her thighs, her calves- when the yoga instructor announces the next position Kelley topples down out of surprise. She hits her mat with an _oof_ , barely saving herself from a faceplant.

She hears muffled laughter from the other side of her. Luckily or unluckily, Carli and Mittsy are the only ones to catch the fall. Their laughter earns them a stern look from their instructor and Kelley presses her face to the mat in embarrassment.

Bad idea. She wrinkles her nose.

She spends the rest of the lesson pointedly not looking at Hope Solo, despite the strange tickle at the back of her head that makes her feel like she’s being watched.

-

The day of their first match, Kelley sits in the locker room with her jersey in her hands. Her bag lays half-unpacked in front of her, cleats tucked neatly into one side and socks folded on top of them. She’s still in shorts rolled up over her hips and a loose v-neck, and she stares down at the big number 5 freshly printed on the kit.

Amy has her phone on, blasting out top 40 from the other side of the room. Cheney is absentmindedly bopping along to the beat.

Kelley hooks the jersey back onto the hanger and stands up to hang it back in its place. She stands in front of it in her socks. Takes one slow breath, lets it out. Her mind calms, the noisy beat of Kesha fading into the background. A moment later, she strips off her v-neck for her warm-up top.

Their first match of 2012 is equal parts triumph and disaster. They set a new goal record; Ali gets carried off the field. Halftime is a stretch of tension and silence, hardly concealed worry bubbling up between them. Pia draws them together, words mixed with overly energetic hand movements, and they rally the spirit back.

They’re unstoppable really, far mismatched, and Kelley can’t say it’s a bad way to start the tournament. Ali hobbles to the bench a few minutes after the second half kicks off, crutches tucked under each arm. She sits down next to Kelley and Kelley glances down at the swell of ice beneath her pants. Ali gives her a small shrug; they’ll know more soon. A dangerous, stupid tackle like that- Kelley can’t say she’s sorry for the thrashing.

The word in the locker room after the match is the hospital and an MRI. Kelley sees the same concern reflected back at her from everyone’s eyes and the pointless attempts to hide it. No one wants to say it. It didn’t look good. Ali gets waves and hugs and worried looks as she leaves the locker room for the hospital, still limping along.

The concern follows them from the stadium to the bus and back to the hotel like a heavy cloud, muting the joy of their win. They’re walking into the hotel, a few weakly joking as they head inside, when Jill calls out her name.

Kelley turns. Jill’s studying her with calculated, thoughtful eyes, almost an appraisal, and Kelley’s not surprised when she says: “Pia wants to talk with you.”

-

The next morning, Kelley piles her paper plate with fruit salad. Her hastily fashioned bun is slipping out of its confines and hair sticks out at odd angles, the curls brushing her neck and rising up off her head. She runs a quick hand over her ever-rebellious flyaways. She eyes the apples for a minute, then picks up a fresh orange. Her brain attempts, sleepily, to make simple decisions.

She meanders over to the coffee machine and is filling a paper cup with coffee, the steam rising up from over the lid, when she feels someone’s gaze.

She looks up and finds Hope Solo staring at her from across the hotel’s breakfast room.

Her eyes are _sharp_ ; they cut into Kelley like knives. She’s unsurprisingly no less intimidating in her sweatpants and beanie, especially considering the intensity in her gaze. As soon as their eyes meet, Hope’s gaze flickers back down to her phone.

Kelley blinks.

She looks back down to her coffee just in time to save it from overflowing. As she carefully lifts the overfull cup, she steals a glance back at Hope. Hope is still staring down at her phone. Kelley sets the coffee on the counter and tears open a packet of sugar, feeling eyes on the back of her neck that she knows are no longer there. Getting caught in someone’s thousand yard stare is not so strange; catching Hope studying the side of her face like she’s trying to memorize it is.

There’s not enough room for cream so she slowly lifts the cup to her mouth. She’s still thinking about Hope when she takes a sip and burns her tongue, the piping hot coffee scalding her. She puts the cup back down and glares at it.

“What’d that coffee ever do to you?” Cheney moves in next to her, setting her own cup down.

“Bunt my tong.” Kelley says, feeling the strange rough texture of the burn. She waves a sleepy hand in front of her mouth.

“Ouch.” Cheney’s tone is sympathetic.

“Thanks.” Kelley glances back at the dining room, but Hope is gone.

-

It’s later, after recovery and a long afternoon that Kelley rounds the corner of her hallway and runs straight into Hope’s shoulder. Hope’s waiting outside Kelley’s hotel room, fist lifted to knock.

“Oh, my bad.” Kelley flushes, quickly falling back.

“It’s fine.” Hope says. Kelley hopes she doesn’t notice the blush on her cheeks. It seems a bit ridiculous to be blushing around a teammate, even if that teammate is really pretty and sort of scary.

“What’s up?”

Hope takes another step back from Kelley. In her eyes is the same look Jill gave Kelley last night, studied and appraising with a hint of hopefulness.

“I heard you’re getting the start tomorrow.”

Kelley’s been playing those words back in her head all day but they still seem surreal. She can picture herself standing in that starting lineup for the second time in her life, hand over her chest as the national anthem plays, but it seems like it’s happening to someone else.

“Yeah.” Kelley can’t dim the smile that spreads across her face.

“Congrats.” The tension on Hope’s face eases away, leaving a smile in its place. She lifts her hand up and Kelley somewhat ironically high fives her, the tension in the hallway tripling when Kelley takes a step forward and their hands make contact. There’s something strange about the way their palms connect. Kelley’s stomach feels odd. “A few of us are heading to the field for extra training. Pia thought it might be a good idea if you came with.” Hope looks uncomfortable being Pia’s messenger.

“I’m down. Right now?”

“In a few.”

“Okay, I just gotta-” Kelley gestures back into her hotel room.

“I’ll wait.” Hope says. When Kelley comes out of her room a few minutes later, her hair twisted into a bun and a bag swung across her shoulder, Hope is waiting outside for her. She’s slouched back against the wall, one foot crossed over the other, staring down at her phone. Her warm up pants hang low against her waist.

When their eyes meet, Hope smiles at her, small and unreserved and real. Kelley thinks it might be the first time she’s ever seen Hope quite so relaxed around her.

They take the bus to the fields and trudge through the melting snow into the bubble. Most everybody who didn’t get minutes the day before is there, along with Carli and HAO, people who’d sooner be on the field than away from it. They split up into two teams and put together a formation with what they’ve got. Kelley takes her spot at left back.

They don’t go as hard as they could, too aware of the match tomorrow, but they work on connecting and formation. Hope’s voice is in Kelley’s ear on every other play, more vocal and commanding than she usually is, pointing out basic off-ball shifts. On the other side of the field, Barnie seems almost silent in comparison.

Honestly, it makes Kelley feel more confident. She’s often moving into place a second before Hope’s words reach her, and it’s good to know what she’s doing right and wrong. Maybe it's a bit unorthodox to be learning from a goalkeeper and not another defender, but Kelley likes the simple way Hope explains things; the way she sees things that other people don't. Kelley’s in such a determined headspace that the trainer’s whistle is almost an annoyance. She grabs a water bottle and stands next to Becky, tips her head back to get a mouthful.

She sees goalkeeper gloves before she registers Hope’s presence next to her. Hope’s reaching for a water bottle, hands awkward but practiced at it, and Kelley holds out her own.

“Here.” She says, holding it out. Hope reaches out, but a heartbeat before her gloves close around it, Kelley squeezes it hard and water shoots out and catches Hope in the neck.

There’s a brief second of silence when Kelley tracks her eyes up to Hope’s, trying and failing to hide her grin, and Hope’s eyes are wide and shocked. But an answering twinkle sparks in Hope’s gaze and Kelley laughs and takes off. Hope grabs a water bottle from the bench and Kelley feels a stream of water on her back before she gets three feet. She’s laughing too hard to care and ducks behind Pinoe in defense. Carli rolls her eyes at them.

“Nope.” Pinoe says, and turns in circles trying to dislodge Kelley. She gets two turns and Hope manages to hook one long arm around Kelley’s waist and pull her in. Kelley’s laughing and trying to squirt Hope backwards and mostly just dousing herself until a stream of ice cold water runs down the neck of her jersey and she’s just squirming away.

Hope’s grinning when she releases her.

“I win.” She says. Kelley briefly thinks of the water bottle still in her hand , but the thought must show all over her face. Hope takes a threatening step closer. “Don’t.” She’s eyeing Kelley’s hands.

“Truce.” Kelley lifts her hands in surrender. Hope squints at her, trying to judge her trustworthiness. Their eyes connect again and their gaze threatens to douse the playfulness of this interaction. Kelley’s suddenly aware of her heartbeat, the shortness of her breath. Hope seems dangerous for a multitude of reasons, the least of which is the water bottle she still holds in one gloved hand.

Finally, Hope nods.

“Truce.” She agrees.

They ride the bus back to the hotel together. Kelley’s jersey sticks wetly to her skin. It’s cold, threatening snow again, and Hope pulls a scarf out of her bag and hands it over. It’s soft and warm and smells a bit like Hope. Kelley wraps it tight around her neck.

They both seem willing to ignore the strangeness of this new friendship, the way they keep seeking each other out. Kelley is more than willing to ignore the strange way her heart shudders whenever Hope is near, like a crush but far more permanent.

They step off the bus and part ways. If Kelley spends dinner that night sneaking glances across the room at Hope, well Hope probably only notices once or twice.

-

Kelley wakes up the morning before their match against Guatemala with her head clear.

She pads quietly across the hotel room carpet to the window and drags back the heavy curtains. The sun is just breaking over the horizon, pink and grey and blue. The view isn’t much: a parking lot with a bunch of minivans, the perimeter marked by a sagging chain link fence. But just beyond it, a scruffy field sits empty.

She pulls a pair of trainers on, snags a soccer ball from the corner, and slips out of the room.

The hallways are deserted this early and she takes the concrete stairs. Her sneakers tap against the steps. She goes out the back door and across the parking lot, her heart already beating quicker. It’s still cold but warmer today than it’s been all week. By the time she eases through the fence and tosses the ball out into the grass, a smile had spread across her face.

She’d expected to be nervous. The night before, she’d been restless and wired. A million different things she’d been told about defending ran sideways in her head, often at odds with instincts she’d spent her career honing.

But soccer is soccer. She knows how to go for a ball, how to see a field. She’s known soccer since she was five and she walked onto the pitch for her first game. Seeing the holes, anticipating her opponents, playing relentlessly: all these things she does naturally. And she knows that they’ll take her forward, no matter what position she plays.

She had worried about Ali, too. Seeing a player go down like that, seeing _Ali_ go down like that, weighs heavy on her heart. And it echoed like déjà vu. The fickle inclinations of chance seem to have too much of a hand in her career. They undermine the confidence she needs on the field.

But this morning, with the sun finally in the sky and a fine sheen of sweat on her shoulders, all she feels is confidence. The ball is like a magnet against her foot as she juggles it back and forth. She feels strong and ready; excited even. Her worries fade.

The fence clinks loudly and she misses the ball on its downward curve. When she looks up, Hope is on the other side. Sunglasses sit on her nose, hiding her eyes, and she clutches a cardboard coffee cup with her arms crossed.

“Good morning.” Her voice quieter than Kelley’s used to.

“Hey.” Kelley gives her a grin. She gathers the ball up and walks through the grass to the fence. Her heart is beating faster again; this time she doesn’t think it’s from the soccer. She ducks under the chain link.

“What are you doing out here so early?” Hope asks, shifting until she’s blocking the glare of the sun from Kelley’s eyes. She lifts her sunglasses onto the top of her head.

“Just getting the old hammies stretched out.” Kelley says, leaning into a half-hearted lunge with the ball at her waist. Hope rolls her eyes. They turn towards the hotel and start to walk. “Thanks for yesterday.” Kelley says, only somewhat stiltedly. She squints up at Hope.

“Any time.” Hope hesitates, as if she wants to say something more, but no words come. After a moment, Kelley yawns. They’ve reached the side door and Kelley hops onto the curbs, trying to stifle her yawn with one hand.

“I need coffee.” She says. Her early morning energy is fading.

“Here.” Hope hands her the cup in her hands. The bittersweet smell of espresso is too much to resist. Kelley takes a long sip, her eyes closing.

“God, that’s good.” She starts to hand it over but Hope is stepping backwards, headed toward the front doors.

“You can have it.”

“What? No, Hope, I can’t take your caffeine.” Kelley protests, trying to push it back into Hope’s hand. Hope just backs further away. Her hands are lifted defensively and her motions exaggerated. She’s smiling.

“You can have it, O’Hara.” She reaches up and pulls her sunglasses back down over her eyes. “Consider it good luck.” A smile quirks on Kelley’s mouth. The cup is warm in her hands and though she knows it’s from the drink and not Hope’s hands, it still feels amazing in the cool morning air.

“Thanks.” Kelley says, tilting the cup slightly in acknowledgement. Hope inclines her head and turns around. She disappears around the corner of the hotel and Kelley stands in front of the side door for a moment. The morning is cold but the sun is out. She has a soccer ball in one hand and a cappuccino in the other. She’s starting a match tonight.

And Hope Solo sort of seems to like her.

-

The stadium rumbles above them.

Kelley sits back in her fold out chair, one ankle resting on the opposite knee. She’s staring ahead into space. Her face is serious. Almost intense. Word on Ali is in and it’s awful; it’s the worst sort of news. Out for the tournament, out for the Olympics- it hangs cold and heavy.

They get the call to move into the tunnel. Kelley pulls the zipper of her warm up jacket a little higher up. She looks down to her cleats, at the laces tied tight, and tugs once more on her socks. After a quick run of her hand over her hair, a last ditch effort at taming the flyaways, she stands.

She’s nervous. It’s almost the good kind of nervous, but the pressure is a little too much. She knows this is her chance. She tugs at the sleeves of her jacket. They’ve made it out of the locker room and into the tunnel, Kelley trailing behind, when someone stops her.

“Hey.” A hand catches her arm and pulls her back. The tunnel echoes around them. Hope glances up over Kelley’s head, but the rest of the team is walking on. She tilts her head down, bringing their faces closer. “You’re gonna do great out there.”

Her eyes are bright and serious. They stare at each other in the cool darkness for a moment. Hope’s captivating; Kelley can’t look away. They’re each seeing something different in each other’s eyes, but whatever's there keeps them both staring. Then the door behind Hope clicks open and a trainer walks out. Kelley breaks their gaze.

“Yeah.” She says, taking a half-step back. Her eyes fall to the bright yellow of Hope’s kit peeking up from under her warm up jacket. It’s practically glowing.

“Hey.” Hope’s hand falls to Kelley’s shoulder. She squeezes. “I believe in you.” She gives Kelley one more smile and, once Kelley returns it, steps around her.

When they line up at the end of the tunnel, Kelley falls into place behind Hope. It’s somewhat comforting that she can’t see over the top of her head. The crowd is a constant rumble outside but all Kelley can see is the span of Hope’s shoulders in front of her, the wisps of hair escaping from her ponytail.

She envisions herself out on the field. How it will feel to slide into a tackle, to leap for a header, to feel the tap of the ball against her foot. She thinks about how those things always feel the same, no matter how many people are watching. She remembers that Alex and Tobin and Abby will all be out there with her. People she’s played with for years, who trust her as one of their teammates.

She walks out of the tunnel with her head held high.

-

That night, Hope finds her in the hotel’s business room after dinner. It’d taken Kelley fifteen minutes to get Abby and Rachel off the desktop but she tugs her headphones out of her ears when Hope pushes the door halfway open and sticks her head in.

“There you are.” Hope says.

“Here I am.” Kelley sets the earbuds down.

“Great game today.” Hope pushes the door open wider. “I knew you could do it.” A full ninety minutes and three assists- Kelley can live with that. But Hope’s already told her this, in the locker room after the match, a win-happy smile on her face as she nudged Kelley’s shoulder.

“You too.”

“C’mon, I want to show you something.”

“Cryptic.” Kelley says, but she’s already standing up and dropping her phone into her pocket.

-

Hope has the key to the equipment room somehow (Kelley doesn't ask, she sort of likes the mystery) and she opens the door to cases and bags of balls and cones and pennies. There's no bed in this hotel room, just desks and empty floor space. But Hope walks through the room and out onto the balcony. This room is on the opposite side of the hotel as theirs and the view off of this balcony is sweeping.

“Wow.” Kelley’s voice is low. She walks over to the edge, her breath already escaping her in white puffs. “Did you bring me up here to murder me.”

“Yes.” Hope rolls her eyes. “They’d never know it was me. The one with the equipment room key.” Kelley’s notices the wicker loveseat with red cushions in the corner, a blanket draped neatly across the back. She tugs it off the back of the chair and sits down. A moment later, Hope sits next to her, her hand reaching under the seat and coming back up with a six dollar bottle of cheap champagne.

Kelley grins.

“You shouldn’t have.” She laughs.

“I think we broke enough records this weekend to earn a celebration.” Hope busies herself with uncorking the bottle and Kelley stretches the blanket out over of both of them. She never could have predicted she’d be spending the evening with Hope and a bottle of champagne. Kelley’s hand brushes Hope’s forearm, sending a chill across her skin. She’s suddenly aware of how close Hope is.

The cork comes out with a loud pop.

“To your second start.” Hope says, tilting the bottle toward Kelley. “And all the future ones.” She drinks first and hands the bottle over to Kelley, but her eyes stay on Kelley’s face. It’s sort of electric.

They pass the bottle back and forth, conversation flowing easily after a few sips. Kelley laughs and sometimes leans into Hope without thinking, the contact warming her skin. Hope is _funny_ , in a way Kelley wasn’t expecting, too serious at times but teasingly dry at others. It isn’t until they’re to the bottom of the bottle that Kelley realizes Hope is staring at her as much as she’s staring at Hope.

The realization is somewhat sobering; too real out here on this chilly balcony, in this world they’ve created on these red cushions under a warm blanket. Kelley tries to forget it, but she can’t stop catching Hope’s eyes on her jaw, on her neck, trailing across her mouth.

It’s not something she’s entirely prepared to handle.

They let the night run on until it’s too cold to stay outside anymore. Stepping back into the hotel room is like stepping into a furnace. It’s warm and dark and Kelley dreads stepping out into the well light hotel hallway and realizing just how much champagne she’s had.

“Thanks for the celebration.” Kelley says, somewhat teasingly polite.

“Thanks for the company.” Hope replies. They stare at each other for a moment. Kelley lets herself look, the champagne dulling her better impulses. She looks at Hope’s eyes and her mouth and then drags her gaze away. She takes two slow steps to the door. She might feel the brush of Hope’s fingertips on her wrist but then they’re gone.

Hope locks the hotel room behind them and they head back to their side of the hotel. The hallway lights are too bright. At one point, they turn a corner and see Dawn at the vending machine. Kelley takes a hard step back and brings Hope with her, pressing her back into the wall a little too hard. They’re both laughing, almost giggle happy. Kelley’s presses her forehead to Hope’s shoulder.

Hope ducks her head around to look and declares the coast clear. Somehow they find themselves jogging down the hall, trying to quiet their footsteps but not really succeeding. They stop outside Kelley’s room, breathless.

“This is me.” Kelley says, jerking a finger back at her door.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good night.” One more almost dangerous look flashes between them, Hope’s eyes promising all sorts of things.

“Good night.” Hope replies. Kelley turns and slips through her unlocked door, leaving Hope in the hallway. She comes face to face with Sydney and Alex and Tobin and Amy, spread out across her room.

“Where have you been?” Alex asks. They look at her with equal parts curiosity and confusion and Kelley really can’t help it- she bursts out laughing.

Tobin and Alex exchange alarmed looks and Kelley knows she’s in for a long night.

-

They eat lunch together before their third match of the tournament. Well, actually Kelley pulls out the chair next to Hope and plops down into the seat. Hope looks up from her salad. She sees that it's Kelley and her eyes soften at the edges.

"Hey." Kelley pops a grape tomato in her mouth.

"Hey." Hope answers. Kelley can feel eyes on her, knows Alex and everyone are eyeing her curiously. This is not subtle. She decides she doesn’t care. She digs into her salad and lets the quiet take over their table.

They eat silently for a couple minutes. Finally, Hope shuts the book beside her plate. It’s all the encouragement Kelley needs. Watching video and pre-game meetings have Kelley in work mode. She’s learns by doing, usually, but some questions have straightforward answers and if there’s anyone to ask, it’s Hope.

They talk formations and off-ball movements until Hope is showing her runs with crumpled raisins from Kelley’s salad, her fingers sliding the fruit across their table. She comes alive when she talks about soccer, a new sort of qualified confidence that differs from her usual brand. It runs deep with a wealth of information. The more she talks, the more questions Kelley has.

She realizes now just how _smart_ Hope is, and how it’s taken her this far. She’s impressed.

The dining room empties out around them but they linger long after their food is gone. They stop talking about soccer; instead it’s their dogs, their moms, lake days. Making Hope laugh without meaning to gives Kelley an unfamiliar sort of joy. She grins back every time Hope's face softens into a smile, every time she dips her head down as she chuckles at one of Kelley's jokes.

They stay until they can't anymore, until it's a race to get upstairs and ready for training. When they part at the elevator, Kelley gets another of Hope's real smiles, the ones that creep up around her eyes. She files it away next to the other ones.

-

Kelley sits out the match against Mexico, her foot tapping offbeat rhythms as she watches her team play. She rests her elbows against her knees and leans forward. Every time they score, she and Tobin celebrate with a chest bump from the bench.

They all wear _Liebe_ scrawled across their forearms, heartbreak captured on skin and worn in solidarity.

-

The next morning, Hope texts Kelley a picture of her leg from the bench in the the training room. Her thigh is dotted with acupuncture needles, clustered one after another down her skin. Kelley finishes up her emails and closes out of Facebook before texting Hope back. _Bored yet_? She asks.

 _Yes_ . Hope texts back. And then: _I need entertainment_.

A few minutes later, Kelley’s pushing the door to the training room open. Hope’s on the table, her right leg still dotted with a handful of pins. She shifts up onto her elbows when the door opens.

“Hey you.” Kelley says, her voice light. She steps inside. “I brought entertainment.” Syd follows her into the room. Hope levels her with a look.

“I meant a book or something, Kelley.” Kelley just grins.

“This is much better.” Syd says, and drags a chair closer to Hope. Kelley hops up onto the other table. In her hands, Sydney holds her phone. She slides it unlocked and gives Hope a look over the top. “Have you met Boss?”

Hope sends Kelley a look that says _you owe me for this_ , but Kelley's gaze says _just wait_.

-

Kelley gets her third start against Costa Rica in the semifinals. The goals don’t fall the way they did with the Dominican Republic and Guatemala, but then they weren’t expecting them to. Tobin’s goal finally puts them on the board but a 1-0 lead is not a situation Kelley likes to be in.

The Costa Ricans get a free kick just past midfield and both teams shift into place. Kelley glances over to line herself up with Buehler.

The kick goes short, a quick lateral pass, and the ball gets chipped over ( _smart move_ , Kelley has the presence to think). Kelley sees it go over the top, suddenly stranding their defense, and takes off. They’ve got no chance already, the Costa Rican player taking a touch toward the goal. She’s aware of Hope coming out of her box and then a streak of purple is laying itself out across the grass, hands reaching for the ball. It goes hard off Hope’s hands, ricochets off the Costa Rican player’s arm, and rolls out to Kelley’s feet. She takes one touch to the outside, short and calm, and punts it up the field.

She barely has time to check on Hope, who took some sort of hit, because the ball is being returned just as quickly. But she glances over and sees her rising to her feet and backpedaling to her goal. Impressive, honestly. But then the ball is back down her side and she turns. Crisis only temporarily averted.

They take the shutout and three goals at the final whistle, a feat of determination more than skill. Kelley walks aimlessly after the game, shaking hands and wiping her forehead with the back of her forearm. When she gets to Hope, she gets dragged into a two-armed hug, shifting up onto her tiptoes to fit her arms around Hope’s shoulders. Her face just comes up to Hope’s neck and she tucks it there, lingering for moment longer than necessary.

They don’t say anything, just separate and keep walking, but Kelley holds onto the moment long into the night. The drag of Hope’s jersey beneath her fingers, the way her hands had briefly tightened around Kelly’s back. Hope is particular about who she touches and how, each physicality made with intent, but she reaches out for Kelley without inhibition, as if she’s already comfortable. She lets Kelley hang all over her, lean against her at breakfast, slide a hand around her shoulder in the locker room. Kelley’s sort of intoxicated with the permission.

-

They only have a day off before Canada. Kelley wakes up late that morning, her feet tangled in the covers. She stretches and rolls over. Amy has already left, her bed neatly made. Kelley presses her face further into the pillow and shuts her eyes again. She’ll still make breakfast if she hurries.

She’s tired physically but it runs a little deeper than that. Weeks of transitioning into a new position have drained her mentally as well. She’ll be happy for a couple weeks off before another camp. She can already picture the meals she’ll cook, dinners with friends, time to relax under this new weight on her shoulders.

She drags herself out of bed a minute later and forgoes a shower in the hopes the team will still be in the dining room. Her hair gets tossed into a bun and she almost forgets her key card as she leaves.

Down the hall, she yawns as she waits in front of the elevator. With her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes sleepy, she looks like she’s just rolled out of bed. Her phone says 8:02 and she’s probably just missed the team. Finally, the doors open and she comes face to face with Hope, who’s looking typically slouchy in sweatpants and long sleeves. In her hands are two steaming cups of takeaway coffee.

“Hey.” Hope hands her one cup as Kelley steps into the elevator.

“You’re a goddess.” Kelley takes a long, grateful drink. She leans against the wall next to Hope, lets her forehead fall down onto Hope’s shoulder. “Sleepy.” Hope chuckles. The elevator doors close on them and they head down to the first floor.

“Defense wearing you out? I thought you said fullbacks had it easy.” Hope’s teasing but Kelley still narrows her eyes.

“Hey. I like being a defender.” Kelley tilts her head up so her chin can rest softly on Hope’s shoulder and looks up at her. “At least I’m not a goalkeeper.”

“I’m taking my coffee back.” Hope faux glares. She pulls away and goes for the cup, but Kelley swings it out of reach.

“No takebacks.” She says. Hope’s crowding her into the corner threateningly, Kelley’s dancing out of reach, and then elevator doors open. They freeze. The older couple on the other side freezes. Hope takes advantage of the distraction to nick the cup of coffee from Kelley’s hands and breeze out the door.

Kelley fast walks after her, giving the couple a brief, bright smile on her way out.

“Unchill.” Kelley says when she sees that Hope’s waiting for her in the hallway, laughing. She waits, but Hope keeps her hold on the coffee. “What do you want for that coffee, Solo? I’m desperate here.”

Kelley knows she’s flirting, has known she’s doing it since that night on the balcony when her hand fell to Hope’s arm, but the things is: Hope flirts _back_.

“Desperate?” Hope smirks. She tilts her head to the side. “How about you just owe me one.” Kelley takes a step closer and Hope hands the cup off with a smirk.

“Deal.” Kelley takes a sip. Hope pushes open the conference door behind her and waits for Kelley to walk inside. Hope’s eyes are sharp. They slip into the back of the room almost unnoticed. Truth is, it’s getting increasingly harder to ignore Tobin’s amused smirk every time she sees Kelley and Hope together, but Kelley waits until no one's looking and sticks her tongue out Tobin.

-

They beat Canada handily and Kelley plays all ninety minutes, her tenth cap ending with a trophy in her hands.

After the awards and the medals, they line themselves up on the stage, bending over the giant banner that proclaims their achievements. Kelley can’t stop grinning. She nudges in between Hope and Christie, her goalkeeper and her captain, and puts her hands on both their shoulders. She isn’t cheesing for the cameras; this smile is real.

After a minute of blinding flashes, Kelley leans in close to Hope’s ear. Her grip slides up to Hope’s neck. In the blur of the crowd, she feels like she can admit anything.

“I couldn’t have done this without you.” She says, low and only for Hope’s ears. Hope tenses under her grip. When the cameras stop shuttering, Hope shifts until she can meet Kelley’s eyes.

“Yes, you could have.” Hope says. She ducks down and pulls Kelley into a tight hug, too sudden and brief for all the emotion vibrating between them. Kelley’s nose brushes her neck. “But thank you.” She says into Kelley’s ear. She squeezes her tighter and they part.

The rest of the night is a blur. Kelley is childlike with energy, hopping onto Alex’s back and hooking arms with Cheney. It’s not until she’s falling asleep at the hotel late that night that she realizes Hope has already left and she never said goodbye.

 

_somewhere in washington_

Hope slides down further in the passenger seat. Outside the window, the highway flies by, but she’s staring intently at her phone instead. It’s late, or early, and she should be tired but the buzzing of her phone is irresistible. Her medal still hangs around her neck, the weight heavy on her stomach.

Adrian drives, staring straight out the window. If he notices how Hope is smirking at her phone screen, he doesn’t say anything.

They left Vancouver in the middle of the night, Hope’s bags loaded up and the car running by the time she had showered and changed. Her phone vibrated ten minutes after they’d passed the Canadian border, Kelley’s name bright in the dark.

Hope should be tired, should probably be resting, but she can’t resist the way her stomach flips every time she gets another message.

 

_febraury, 2012_

 

_miami/idianapolis/atlanta_

Miami is warm and bizarre after weeks in Vancouver and a day in Seattle. Hope falls asleep early her second night there, too tired for anything but a soft bed. She’s feels slightly off-center, no doubt a result of spending hours being photographed naked on the streets of a suburb by ESPN. She can’t say she ever saw her soccer career leading her into that.

Kelley texts her early the next morning. The buzzing wakes Hope from a light sleep and she reaches blindly for her phone. Her eyes blink sleepily at Kelley’s name. She rolls over onto her side, yawns and lifts a hand to cover her mouth.

She slides the message open and smiles at her phone, an expression not many can get out of her before nine in the morning. It’s just a picture of Kelley’s running shoes, haphazardly laced up and framing a cup of coffee set on the ground between them. The message underneath reads: _Good morning. :)_

There’s a quick staccato to her heart, a pleasant warmth in her chest, but she hesitates to label it.

Instead, she texts back: _good morning_.

-

When she gets out of the shower and walks back into the room wrapped in a towel, her phone is just dinging with a reply from Kelley.

 _How was being naked_ ?

 _Scary...Liberating…. You should give it a try sometime_ . ;) She leaves the winky face for a moment, then goes back and erases it. Then she adds it again and hits send.

 _Can’t say I’ve ever done public nudity_ . Kelley replies. Hope falls back on her bed, one hand holding the knot in her towel.

 _Well I’m a professional now. Maybe I’ll give you lessons_ . Hope waits for a reply; she isn’t disappointed.

_I’ll look forward to it. ;)_

-

Hope wakes up in Indianapolis and eyes the trail of sand that runs from the door of her hotel room to the bathroom.

Her Celebrity Beach Bowl uniform is lying on the opposite bed, still slightly sandy. Her Most Inspirational award is lying beside it. Indianapolis has been good to her: a touchdown, a trophy, a new hat.

The pressure behind her eyes informs her that she drank a little too much last night; text messages on her phone broaden the impression. Two short responses to Adrian, a couple terrible pictures exchanged between her and Whitney, and a long stream of texts that span the night between her and Kelley. She remembers almost all of them, which is a good sign. The amount of smiley faces included is probably not.

Her time off has been less time off and more of a whirlwind of press and obligations, but that’s just how it is these days. She looks forward to the familiar pattern of camp; the structured training, the scheduled meals, the efficiency of the team. The other side of her job can be incredibly fun, but she needs the ball at her feet. Soccer is her job.

She’s still scrolling through her texts from the arm chair in the corner of her room and her thumb rolls through her and Kelley’s thread. Up and up and up- the messages are endless. A solid of week of back and forth between them.

Hope may need to make it back to camp for the soccer, but there’s a certain person she wouldn’t mind seeing either.

-

It’s a quiet Sunday at home, the last one before Kelley’s flight out to Texas for their New Zealand friendly, and Kelley spends it sprawled on the living room couch staring at her phone. The tv’s playing cartoons at low volume. Her sister comes in, sweaty from her morning run, and tugs her earbuds from her ears.

“Who are you talking to?” Erin asks, stopping in the middle of the room.

Kelley glances up from her phone, barely distracted from it.

“Huh?”

“I said, what are you doing?”

“Oh, just-” Kelley makes a sort of vague gesture with the phone in her hand. “Talking about all this WPS stuff.” Her phone dings again and she looks down to a long block of text from Hope. She starts reading immediately, her brow furrowing.

Erin gives her a long look. When Kelley starts furiously texting a reply, Erin lifts one eyebrow.

That’s definitely a discussion for later.

 

_frisco, texas._

Kelley’s sitting against her luggage in one corner of the airport’s waiting area when she sees Hope coming down the escalator, one hand gripping the railing and the other wrapped around her bag. Next to Kelley, Alex is focused on the puzzle in her hands, her pencil scratching steadily against paper. Hope’s alone. She glances up and her eyes meet Kelley’s. They stare for a minute, drinking each other in after days apart, and then Kelley grins and lifts a hand. Hope’s answering smile is a little tight and tired but when she finally makes it across the room to them, she sits down at Kelley’s side.

“Hey.” Hope leans back against the wall and crosses her ankles out in front of her.

“Hey you.” Kelley rests her arms against her knees and turns her head toward Hope. She can’t help but stare a little; it’s like she’d forgotten the exact shade of Hope’s eyes, the endearing curve of her smirk. Hope’s eyebrow goes up. Kelley blushes and looks away.

“How was-” They both start at the same time. Hope laughs. She tilts her head back against the wall, and then rolls her head to the side to look at Kelley.

“Did I tell you I’m the most inspirational flag football player?”

Kelley shakes her head, a number of comments reaching the tip of her tongue. They talk while they wait for the last few stragglers due for their bus, Kelley constantly corralling the instinct to reach out and touch Hope’s arm, to move in closer. Hope is sleepy, yawning every few minutes and making Kelley yawn, too. It’s incredibly nice to sit next to her on the airport floor and just talk. It feels right.

-

It’s freezing for their New Zealand match, windy and ice cold. Kelley leaves the game in the 81st minute in exchange for Syd. She sighs as she runs to the side of the field.

Kelley slows her jog once she’s passed the center ref and shrugs on the padded jacket handed off to her. She quickly zips it up. She’s freezing, the cold air sharp even through her under armour. With a huff, she drops down on the bench next to Hope.

Hope’s arms are crossed, her eyes on the field, but she glances over when Kelley sits down and pulls half her blanket over Kelley’s lap. She seems to know Kelley doesn’t want to talk at the moment. They’re down one to zero and if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s Kelley’s. A bad back pass, a lucky chip on Barnie and the score’s remained the same throughout the second half.

But Cheney drops down next to Kelley on the bench, shivering, and Kelley shakes herself out of her thoughts. She concentrates on the game. Syd’s bringing the pressure now that’s she’s on. Someone tosses her a bright yellow penny and she pulls it down over her jacket.

“How’s your leg?” She asks Hope, when the ball’s getting locked up in the midfield.

“It’ll be fine after I get some rest.”

Kelley taps her fingers against Hope’s thigh, and Hope narrows her eyes at her. She smiles though and she looks cute in her giant puffy jacket. The sight of her makes the unsettling guilt in Kelley’s chest unlock and lift away; she lets it go. This thing between them, buzzing and irresistible, sparks even on the field. It’s been too long and too many text messages between them to deny how it feels to be next to each other, on a freezing cold metal bench in the middle of Texas, their giant puffy coats brushing each other.

Hope is intriguing and she’s instrumental in Kelley’s confidence, in letting go of bad plays and poor decisions; with Hope by her side, she knows they’re going to be alright. It’s not logical- she’d admit that readily. But it is intoxicating and _theirs_ , and Kelley leans into Hope in the cold, the blanket hiding her hands as she nudges the tips of her fingers under Hope’s thigh.

Alex scores and they all leap off the bench, blankets and worry forgotten. Kelley fist pumps into the air. When she turns, Hope lifts a hand for a high five and their eyes meet momentarily.

Kelley isn’t entirely sure what they’re hurtling towards, but then again she knows exactly what sort of temptation is reflected in Hope’s eyes.

-

After the match and its scrambled for win, Kelley grabs a shower, mostly to wash the cold night air off her skin. When she gets out she pulls on sweatpants and a sweatshirt, her hair wet and tangled against her back, and tugs her phone off the charger. Something in her chest shifts when she sees Hope has texted her. It feels like relief, but sweeter.

 _Movie night?_ The message says. Kelley taps out a reply.

 _Be there in five_ .

"I'll be back later." Kelley tells Mewis, who's typing out something on her laptop.

Becky’s down the hall with LeP so they have Hope’s hotel room to themselves. Kelley realizes she’s missed the sound of Hope’s voice, her often teasing smile. She tells Hope as much. The smile she gets in return is almost a promise, laced with affection.

“I missed you too, KO.”

Kelley doesn’t tell her how beautiful she looks with her hair pulled over one shoulder, padding around in her thick socks and double sweaters. She’s almost too beautiful to be real sometimes.

They share Hope’s bed, shoulder-to-shoulder, both drinking tea as Notting Hill plays on the TV. Hope is quiet, keeping her thoughts to herself. She crawled in too close to Kelley, so close they’re pressed together. The tea goes cold and gets abandoned. Kelley leans in against Hope’s shoulder. They’re overtly aware of the empty hotel room; of their privacy. The opportunity.

Kelley’s heart is thudding in her chest, Hope’s skin too warm against hers. Hope turns to say something to her, her face too close. Their eyes meet, an understanding as old as anything. Kelley closes the inches between them.

It’s soft and awkward, different, and Kelley moves her mouth to trap Hope’s bottom lip between hers.

It’s electrifying.

When Hope buries her hand in Kelley’s hair, cradling the back of her head, Kelley almost moans. Her entire body feels electrified with need, every nerve ending a sharp point of contact. Her hand curls around Hope’s neck. She’s never felt so out of control before, so quickly.

When they break apart, Kelley hides her face in Hope’s neck, her face red. She can’t exactly breathe. Hope’s fingers stroke at the back of her neck, tugging gently at her hair.

“Are you okay?” Hope asks. Kelley nods into her neck. After a moment, she pulls back.

Hope’s eyes are the same, maybe a little brighter. Kelley’s cheeks are warm. When Hope leans back in, guiding Kelley’s mouth back to hers, Kelley’s eyes flutter shut.


	3. part two

_febraury, 2012._

_newark, new jersey_

Kelley has the distinct disadvantage of having to fly out of Atlanta to meet the team in Newark. Her dad drops her off hours early and she sips coffee and stares at her phone as she waits in line. It’s been two weeks since the team’s been together; two weeks since she’s seen Hope.

They haven’t talked about the kiss, but Kelley has spent most of her time thinking about how it could happen again. She spends most of the plane ride to Newark doing the same thing.

When she finally makes it to their terminal, most of the team is already in the waiting area. To her disappointment, Hope’s nowhere to be found. Kelley picks a seat on the far edge of the row, across from Christie and her kids, and Reece immediately bumbles over and hands Kelley a ball, her face serious. Kelley shifts down to the floor and rolls it back and forth to her across the aisle until when someone sits down at her abandoned seat.

“Good morning.” Hope has a smile and a cup of coffee. Kelley’s whole being warms to the sight of her.

“Hey you.” She manages. She takes the coffee from Hope’s hands and feels a bump against her knee. The blue rubber ball is resting against her leg and Reece is staring at her expectantly.

“Don’t let me interrupt your playdate.” Hope smirks and leans back into the chair like she’s content to watch them. Kelley wonders when they’ll be able to do that thing again, if it was a one off at a weird friendly or if the look Hope is giving her right now is as promising as it seems. Kelley manages to tear her gaze away and rolls the ball back to Reece.

She has the distinct feeling that Portugal is going to be good to her.

 

_lagos, portugal._

Kelley saves Hope a seat on the bus, but Hope doesn’t make her way from the back until an hour into their ride from the airport. Half the team is in various states of unconsciousness and the other half are reading intently; Kelly is grateful for that because when Hope sits down, she shifts close enough that Kelley can feel the warmth of her thigh through her clothes. Her close proximity is like a drug to Kelley, makes her skin warm all over. The bus rocks along the road and Kelley tries to fight the blush spreading across her cheeks.

She glances over once at Hope’s profile and watches her staring straight ahead at the front of the bus, lost in thought. Kelley’s gaze lingers on her lips. The feel of their kiss rushes back over her, a bizarre thought even after all the time she’s had to mull it over. She knows how she feels about Hope- she’s been harboring a crush for years, much to Tobin’s amusement- but she hadn’t believed for an instant that anything would come of it.

Hope looks to her right and Kelley is caught.

“What are you staring at?” Hope murmurs the words to avoid being overheard, but it doesn’t soften their bluntness. Kelley sits back so that Hope has to turn to look at her, amusement and trepidation in Hope’s eyes. Kelley just tilts her head to the side.

“I’m not sure I can tell you.” She says. Hope laughs, low and charmed, and leans in a little closer. She regards Kelley for a moment with the full force of her piercing blue eyes; sometimes it seems like Hope can see things Kelley herself doesn’t know. Hope ducks in closer, until their faces are an inch apart.

“I really want to kiss you right now.” As soon as the words are out, Hope leans back into her own space, leaving a trail of her perfume behind. Kelley’s face must be scarlet.

So they are doing this again.

Kelley’s gaze drops to Hope’s lips for a heartbeat before she tears her gaze away, her head already light with the thought of it. She looks back up into Hope’s eyes where amusement and heat stares back at her.

“The feeling is mutual.” Kelley’s voice is scratchier than appropriate and she has to look away for a moment, out the window at Portugal as it passes them. She doesn’t realize she’s licking her lips until she looks back over and Hope is staring.

It strikes Kelley that this whole thing might be a sort of terrible idea; the best sort of a terrible idea.

-

The Algarve is a step up in pressure to perform. The regular starting lineup is up for editing, the game lineups malleable and constantly shifting. It’s expected that everyone will get playing time, a shot to prove themselves. Kelley has her eyes set on a starting position. It’s right in front of her, close enough to grab, and she wants it every moment she’s on that field.

Off the field, she loses herself in Hope, like the best and most beautiful stress relief. Portugal is beautiful but Hope is entrancing; they walk through the tourist shops and Kelley tries on wigs. They go to the beach with the team and sit with their feet in the sand. Hope buys Kelley dinner at a little seafood place a mile from their hotel. Their second day there, Hope drags Kelley down a cramped alley between stores, presses her back into the brick, and kisses her long and deep.

After that, there’s really no keeping their hands off each other.

It’s hard to hide from a team of women who are all friends and seem to be everywhere, but they steal moments to themselves, ducking behind corners and down side streets. When they can’t be alone, they hang out with Sydney and Mittsy, drinking virgin Mai Tais while they watch soccer in the square. No one notices Hope’s hand high on Kelley’s thigh beneath the table, her thumb trailing back and forth. The looks they exchange are electric; Kelley doesn’t know how they get away with it.

At night, they wrap up in jackets and walk behind the hotel to sit on the cliffs. The wind is blustering. Kelley holds Hope’s hand warm between them and the moon hangs low over the ocean. The way Hope’s hand hesitates in the air after Kelley’s leaves it, like she’s bereft for a moment before she takes it back. It makes Kelley want to never let go.

Hope is slow to open up, but she tells Kelley about her last boyfriend and the slow drag of their breakup. They don’t define this thing: it would make it too heavy and for now it’s simple, just slow kisses in the dark and a strong friendship. They don’t bother with the trappings of a courtship; Kelley’s too modern and Hope’s too jaded, and they both believe that trust is enough.

-

Their last night in Lagos, a handful of the girls go out to dinner. Kelley’s rooming with Yaya who volunteers for babysitting duty, leaving Kelley with an empty hotel room for the night. It’s an opportunity she can’t pass up. She texts Hope and invites her over and then spends the time in between feeling nervous and endlessly channel surfing.

When Hope’s knock finally sounds on the door, Kelley jumps. She’s aware of her heartbeat, hard and loud in her ears.

She turns the TV off and goes to open the door, running her hand through her hair one more time. Hope waits until the door is shut behind her to lean down and give Kelley a hello kiss. It’s lazy and warm, goes on a little longer than necessary, Hope’s arms wrapping around Kelley’s waist and pulling her in.

“So we’ve got the room to ourselves.” Hope says, finally pulling back.

“We do.” Kelley agrees. A spike of nervousness shoots through her, but the good kind of nervous, the kind that makes her tremble. Hope laces the fingers of one hand through Kelley’s. When Kelley leans back in to kiss her, the nervousness fades under the warm buzz of attraction.

Hope walks her back to the bed and they follow patterns they’re familiar with, like the dip of Hope’s head to trail kisses down Kelley’s neck and the drag of Kelley’s hands up under Hope’s shirt. But Hope pulls back and curls her fingers beneath the hem to drag it up over her head. Suddenly, there’s so much soft skin that Kelley’s head spins, her face too warm, and all she wants is both of them naked, right now. She’s never wanted anything so uncontrollably.

It’s dangerous and a little nerve wracking to be doing this here, but then Hope is tugging off her sweatpants, stepping on the bottoms to pull them past her knees, and reaching out to pull Kelley’s tank top over her head, pressing herself to Kelley again. They make it to the bed without stumbling over anything and Kelley lets her hands roam.

When they’re both thrumming, mouths bruised, Hope pauses and pulls back.

"Wait Kelley." She's a little breathless and it's distracting- as if her hand running up the side of Kelley’s sleep shorts wasn’t distracting enough. "Before we do this, you know this- it’s just sex."

Hope's looking at her expectantly, her expression serious even though her eyes are blown wide and dark blue and her mouth is kissed red.

"Oh." Kelley's hands stop on Hope's ribcage. She looks at the curve of Hope's eyebrow, the hair tucked behind her ear, then back into her eyes. She’s confused. "Yeah, that's fine." Hope shifts on top of her and her leg is between Kelley's and the friction is almost unbearable. This is a terrible time to be having this talk; all of Kelley's decision making skills are centered around her ability to get Hope's clothes off. But Hope's still not kissing her.

"Are you sure?" She actually seems like she's going to stop, now that Kelley's shirtless in her bed, if Kelley can't agree to just sex. She's twenty-three for fuck's sake- she knows the difference between dating and whatever it is she and Hope are doing.

"I'm sure." Kelley says, and kisses Hope before she can get another dumb question out. A moment later, she rolls over, tipping Hope onto her back. Her knees on either side of Hope's waist, she drags her mouth down Hope's ear, drawing a soft noise, and the wave of arousal that follows drowns out the uncomfortable feeling left by Hope’s question.

-

It’s different with Hope than it’s ever been with anyone else. It’s like wildfire. There’s no pretense between them, none of the stumbling around each others' feelings that Kelley is used to, the endless adjusting to silent requests. They just _work_ , and when it doesn't quite work, they fix it. It's simple and straightforward and Kelley loses herself, driven by the singular pursuit of pleasure.

Hours later, Kelley’s half-asleep, her eyes drooping closed. She knows they can’t stay like this but she’s savoring while she can, Hope’s legs tangled up with hers. Kelley rolls closer, slipping one arm over Hope’s waist, and presses a hot kiss against the back of her shoulder. Hope tenses, despite the goosebumps rising across her skin. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

“I don’t really cuddle.” Hope says stiffly from the circle of Kelley’s arms. Kelley doesn’t hesitate. Her mouth moves next to Hope’s ear.

“Who said anything about cuddling?” Her hand slides across the plane of Hope’s stomach, dips down. Hope’s back arches against her and Kelley’s reach is not nearly long enough, but she makes do.

-

Kelley spends her days, her hours, her minutes waiting for Hope; a predictable ebb and flow of desire. She’s never wanted to see anyone the way she wants to see Hope every day, the way she waits for her in the dining room for breakfast and sidles up to her at training.

She’s met by the warm, happy smile Hope gives her, the one Kelley rarely sees unless it’s directed at her; the way her fingers trap Kelley’s waist and tug her back into the hotel room when she goes to leave. How confident her hands are when she’s undressing Kelley, each time becoming easier and more intimate, until Hope is chuckling in her ear while Kelley absentmindedly runs her hand up and down Hope’s back.

When they’re alone together, Kelley’s heart rate picks up and she feels _bright_ , like never before. Her hands reach for Hope at all times, searching for her palms, gripping her waist, a friendly touch on her arm. She sees herself doing it and can’t stop.

At some point, she realizes she likes Hope more than anyone else. And she likes kissing Hope even more than that.

For now, soccer is first and Hope is a close second. Having Hope at her back every step of the way is a blessing she didn’t know how to ask for. They talk shop as often as anything else, that gold medal in the back of their mind at all times. Kelley has a spot on the team, has doubled her starts in a couple months, and she has Hope at her side. She begins to think she might be the happiest she’s ever been.

They claim closets and shadowed corners and empty hotel rooms for themselves, stealing kisses when they can, Hope always tugging Kelley close and making her feel undone. There’s still no conversation on the extent of this but Kelley’s got Hope under her skin now. She knows they need to talk about it eventually, about the lines Hope is trying to draw between their friendship and the sex, about the lines that are increasingly blurred. For now, they spend their days in Portugal getting lost in each other.

 

_march, 2012._

_tokyo, japan._

Kelley tackles Hope into her bed and Hope’s hands go to her hair, drawing her even further in. It’s been too long since this. Weeks too long.

“God, I missed you.” Hope says. Her kiss is heated and intoxicating, an outpouring of bottled up affection with a thin line of need running through it.

“I missed you, too.” Kelley nips at Hope’s bottom lip. Hope rolls them over and straddles Kelley’s waist, looking down at her.

“Hey.” She says. Kelley grins at her.

“Hey you.” Hope grins back, her hair falling straight and long to her shoulders, the curve of her smile relaxed. Kelley sits up, shifting Hope back in her lap but securing her with hands on her waist, and kisses her again. She runs her hands up under Hope’s shirt, lifting the material with it. They part so that Kelley can toss the shirt behind them and when Hope kisses her again, it’s like drowning. It’s never been like this with anyone else; she loses herself in Hope like she’s the only person in the world, like this is _it_.

Later, they hear about the minor earthquake that rocked Tokyo for a moment, shaking their hotel and scaring their teammates.

They hadn’t noticed.

-

The next afternoon, Kelley comes back to Hope’s hotel room to find her laying on her stomach on her bed, her laptop playing an episode of _Shameless_.

“Are you here to give me a massage?” Hope turns her head to the side to give Kelley a look. The ice pack wrapped tight around her right thigh is melting onto the towel beneath her leg. Kelley puts a knee on the bed and suspends her body above Hope’s, kisses her right behind her ear on that spot that makes her shiver.

“I could be your personal masseuse.” Kelley murmurs. She shifts so that she’s straddling Hope’s back and puts her hands on Hope’s shoulders, squeezing her fingers into the muscle. She spreads her palms out across Hope’s shoulder blades and then trails her fingers up Hope’s neck, turning slow circles. Hope’s forehead falls to the comforter and she groans.

“Kelley.” Kelley’s hands trail back to her shoulders and she’s just dipping her fingers under the bottom of Hope’s shirt, her thumbs digging into the small of Hope’s back, when the hotel door clicks open. Kelley stumbles off of Hope and onto the floor, almost falling on her face in the process. She rolls and rights herself as Hope lifts up onto her elbows.

Mittsy walks in and stops when she sees the two of them. She cocks her head at Kelley.

“Making her sit on the floor, Hope?” Mittsy shakes her head. “Ice cold.” Kelley can see the unnatural flush up the back of Hope’s neck. She’s still waiting for her heartbeat to go back to normal.

“She can’t sit still.” Hope manages.

Mittsy shrugs and hops onto her bed.

Hope and Kelley exchange a look.

-

Kelley’s walking back from Alex’s hotel room when a hand wraps around hers and tugs her into the ice room. She knows it’s Hope without even looking, knows the feel of her fingers wrapped around her hand.

“Hey.” Hope pulls her further back into the corner, out of sight.

“Hey you.” Kelley says, glancing around the ice room. “What are we doing?”

“What does it look like?” Hope says, and pulls Kelley in close enough to kiss her. Kelley sinks into it, but her hands are already going to Hope’s forearms to gently push her away.

“Out here?” Kelley says, glancing behind her at the open entrance to the tiny room.

“It’s kind of our only option.” Hope’s hands are tugging at the drawstrings of Kelley’s shorts playfully. There’s no real intention there, just anxious hands, but it’s one thing to hide in hotel rooms and side streets of strange cities, and another to kiss Hope out here where they’re practically asking to be caught. And after Mittsy almost did the other day, Kelley knows it’s not something she wants.

“We probably shouldn’t.” Kelley states, but it’s a weak protest. Hope’s hands fall from Kelley’s shorts. A second later they’re against Kelley’s hips and guiding her back against the ice machine. She’s leaning in for another kiss when they hear voices down the hall. Hope steps back, mild irritation written across her features, and Kelley rolls her eyes, smiling.

“Tomorrow.” She says, reaching out to squeeze Hope’s arm quickly. The voices pass by the ice room- sounds like Abby and HAO having some bizarre conversation- and as soon as they pass, Hope moves forward again and captures Kelley’s mouth fiercely, kissing her until they’re both breathless.

“Tomorrow.” She says, pulling away. Her eyes are almost irresistible and Kelley stares at her for a moment, still breathing quickly. Finally she slips out from between Hope and the ice machine, turning down the temptation with a will she didn’t know she had. When she reaches the entrance, she turns and lifts her hands, makes a finger gun and pulls a Charlie’s Angel pose. She cocks one eyebrow at Hope, takes a quick left-and-right of the hallway, and gives Hope a quick nod.

Hope is smiling and shaking her head when Kelley disappears down the hall.

-

The lobby on the bottom floor of their hotel is more like an extended business lounge, with two coffee makers and relaxed lighting, and that’s where Tobin finds Kelley the night after their sloppy match against Japan. Kelley’s laptop is balanced on her knees and she’s biting her lip as she reads and taps against the keyboard. Actual businessmen take up many of the seats around her, but Tobin isn’t discouraged. She just sits down crosslegged on the low coffee table beside Kelley’s chair.

Kelley glances over at her.

“What’s up dude.” The light against Kelley’s face dims as she exits out of her emails. Tobin shrugs.

“Got bored.”

“I was thinking about walking down the street for some Pocky.” Kelley offers.

“I’m down.” While Kelley stuffs her laptop in her backpack and slings it over her shoulder, Tobin stares at her collarbone. From the deep cut of her v-neck, the edge of a red bruise is visible. Tobin’s not exactly surprised. They walk out the front doors and onto the sidewalk, the streets bright and busy even at this hour. There’s a little grocer down the block. Tobin people watches and waits.

“Sorry I’ve been missing in action lately.” Kelley finally says, the words blurted between them. Tobin shrugs.

“You’ve been hanging out with Hope. I understand.”

“It’s not like that-” Kelley cuts herself off, because _yes_ , it is like that. “I mean, I still feel bad for not being around lately.”

“Well, you should probably be telling Alex that. She thinks you’ve abandoned us.” Tobin puts her hands in her pockets, her walk still slow and even. “I mean, I’m not telling you that to make you feel guilty.”

“I know.” Kelley sighs. “And I am sorry.”

“Hey, the heart wants what the heart wants.” Tobin chuckles at her own joke and Kelley shoves at her shoulder. “Just saying!” They turn the corner into the corner shop and Kelley leads the way down the aisle. She starts to pick through the brightly colored candy, shifting her fingers through the boxes. They distract themselves for a minute, before Kelley speaks again.

“You know that she’s going through some family stuff right now, and I think she needs somebody.” Kelley admits. It feels strange to be talking about this openly, even if she’s bypassing the more intimate details of their relationship. Tobin can read between the lines.

“I think it’s cool of you to be that person, but I think you need to be careful.” Tobin turns to her in the brightly lit aisle of the corner store, surrounded by cartoon-packaged candy. “Sometimes you give too much of yourself without asking for anything back.”

She’s right, of course. She knows Kelley well enough. Kelley nods.

On their way back to the hotel, munching on Pocky and a strange rectangle shaped treat, Kelley gets a text from Hope.

_Will you come over?_

She and Tobin part ways at the elevator. Tobin gives her a nod and a little smile and it’s nice to have support, any kind of support really, from someone who cares about her.

-

Kelley pushes Hope’s door open to darkness. The curtains are shut tight and all the lights are off. When the door shuts behind her, it takes a minute for her eyes to adjust.

Hope is lying on the left side of the bed, her body curled into a ball. Kelley can just make out the flicker of her eyes.

Hope doesn't want to talk. Her face does this devastating thing when she's upset, like she's sad and walling it off, but her eyes give it all away. Kelley toes her shoes off at the end of the bed and crawls in. She lies down behind Hope and hooks one arm over her hip to pull her closer, until Kelley's forehead touches the back of Hope's neck, until her feet brush Hope's ankles. This might be qualified as cuddling but Hope relaxes back into her.

The minutes turn long as Kelley keeps Hope close. She starts to drift off. She wonders if Hope feels as safe like this- just the two of them, wrapped up- as she does. Hope's shoulders start to shake. She rolls over in a flurry of movement that startles Kelley into alertness and buries her face in Kelley's neck. Her arm wraps around Kelley's waist and she molds herself to Kelley's side.

It's all Kelley can do to pull her close and whisper to her, soft and gentle. She strokes Hope's back, promising her everything. It hurts her to hear Hope cry and she tries to keep Hope close enough that nothing awful can reach between the two of them.

When Hope finally falls asleep, Kelley’s neck is damp. Her body is relaxed next to Hope; it’s her heart that aches. It makes her chest feel tight and terrible and she wishes childishly that she could take away the things that hurt Hope.

All she can do, though, is keep her close.

-

The night after their match against Brazil, Kelley, Hope and Syd head down to the hotel’s bar and order martinis until they can’t stop laughing. It’s not that many martinis; they’ve been training for a long time and they’re tired from the game. After a while, Syd heads off to find Alex. Hope and Kelley make their way up to Kelley’s room. They have few moments alone together these days, too many teammates and obligations, but Kelley just crawls up onto the bed with Hope and lays next to her. The backs of their fingers brush.

Hope rolls over and props up on one elbow, eyes running over Kelley’s face. Kelley just looks up at her, letting Hope stare. Finally, Hope leans down and presses one soft kiss to Kelley’s lips, affectionate and brief. “I like you more than anybody.” Hope murmurs in a rush, the words bumbling between them and warming against Kelley’s cheeks. Kelley feels them like lightning down the back of her neck.

When Hope leans down to kiss her again, warm and firm, emotion runs like a current between them, making every hair on the back of Kelley’s neck stand up.

-

“What are you wearing?”

Is the first thing Hope says when she sees her, hand reaching out to grab Kelley’s shirt. She pulls it towards her, pulling Kelley in the process. “Is that… Rapinoe’s hair?” Hope’s teasing smile is contagious. It’s their last night in Tokyo and they’ve made friends at the hotel, American guys they’ve invited over to play beer pong.

“Hello to you, too.” Kelley says, stretching onto her toes to give Hope a kiss. Hope’s hand stays fisted in Kelley’s shirt, keeping her close.

“Hey.” Hope’s voice is just a shade of breathless when they part. She opens her eyes. Kelley is routinely knocked out by that blue.

“And yeah, it’s Rapinoe’s hair. It’s cool, huh.” Kelley pulls the material out to look at it herself.

“Yeah, cool.” Hope says.

“Don’t be jealous.” Kelley laughs. Hope only rolls her eyes and grabs her key card off the table. Carli and Mittsy are already in Carli’s room, trying to shift the desk and beds into something workable. When they walk in, Mittsy fakes a basketball shot at them, holding the follow through in their direction.

“Your wrist looks broken.” Hope comments, noting the way Mittsy’s hand is dangling.

“You better hope it’s broken or you two are getting destroyed in beer pong tonight.”

“Oh, fighting words!” Kelley says, bouncing up onto her toes. Beside her, Hope folds her arms.

“You want to make this interesting?” Hope asks. Both Carli and Mittsy’s eyes sparkle at the challenge.

-

That’s basically how Hope and Kelley end up in the indoor pool approximately six hours after it closes. Carli and Mittsy are laughing as they splutter in the cool water, until Hope and Kelley exchange a glance and Carli and Mittsy suddenly find themselves wrapped up by a soaking wet goalkeeper and defender.

As far as lost bets go, it’s probably a best case scenario.

Hope and Kelley make it back to Kelley’s hotel room before three a.m. and try not to wake Syd as they change into dry clothes and climb into Kelley’s bed. Kelley’s asleep before her hair is even dry.

When they wake up the next morning, it’s to Syd jumping on top of them.

“Time to go home.” She grins. Hope groans and buries her face in her pillow.

“Sleep.” She says. Then she remembers Seattle and the Sounders Women and how good it will be to be home for more than a week, to have a solid block of time with her dog and her own coffee machine. Syd climbs off of them and heads into the bathroom, singing to herself as she does. Hope turns her head and cracks an eye open. Kelley’s eyes are still shut, her face smushed into the pillow, her nose cutting into the fluff. Her hair has dried and curly and mess around her, sticking up at every angle. “Do you want to come visit in Seattle?” Hope asks before she can think better of it.

Kelley’s eyes open, speckled brown shining smartly back at Hope. Her voice is soft and scratchy when she speaks.

“Yeah.”

 

_april,2012_

_seattle, washington._

Her first night in Seattle, Kelley sits up in bed and stares at Hope’s bedside table.

Hope’s alarm clock is ridiculous. It has a panel of confusing looking blinking lights and numbers that constantly shift. There’s like three different weather descriptions on the face, including one for inside the house. The time actually projects out of the alarm clock and into space like they’re in a science fiction movie.

Kelley squints at it.

"What is this thing?"

"Just go to sleep." Hope says. Her light clicks off and hides her smile.

"How do I know it's not filming me in my sleep." Kelley stares suspiciously at it.

"Shut up." Hope groans. She snakes an arm out and wraps it around Kelley's waist. One gentle tug and Kelley is rolling toward her in the dark.

Kelley shuts up, but she doesn't go to sleep.

-

“Time to get up.” Kelley feels Hope’s mouth brush her cheek. Her words register a moment later, soft and muddled in Kelley’s sleepy head. She smells coffee, stretches long and slow in Hope’s bed.

"Let's not." Kelley answers, her face buried in the pillow. The warmth of late morning sun spreads across her shoulders, until the ghost of Hope's fingers replaces it. She scratches against the middle of Kelley’s back. Kelley shifts until her cheek is against the pillow.

Hope sits on the edge of her bed, a cup of coffee in one hand and the other on Kelley. Kelley’s naked in the sheets and sleepy, her hair a curly mess around her head.

“Good morning.” She smiles and Hope steals a quick, closed mouth kiss.

“C’mon, I’ve got training this morning.”

They eat breakfast by the window looking out over the pool. Hope makes egg whites and toast and Kelley blends together a disturbing collection of fruits and vegetables from Hope’s fridge to make a smoothie. She holds it out to Hope, offering a sip, and Hope gives her a dubious eyebrow before taking it from her. It’s surprisingly not bad.

After breakfast, Hope puts on her training gear and stuffs her bag with various soccer paraphernalia, while Kelley sits on the couch with Leo watching the news. There’s a moment as Hope is heading for the door and turns back to say goodbye where they both think of kissing the other goodbye. But it smacks of domesticity, too much like playing house, and instead Kelley offers a warm smile and Hope awkwardly waves as she heads out the garage door.

And then Kelley is left Hope’s house by herself.

She dozes on the couch to the news for a while, recovering from her early wake up call, and then she wanders around Hope’s place, through the half-furnished guest rooms and the well used kitchen and den. There are pictures of her family everywhere and knickknacks that Kelley knows have stories behind them filling the spaces in between, holding places of honor on her shelves. There’s soccer stuff everywhere, boots and jerseys hanging in the closet of one guest bedroom. In Hope’s bedroom, Kelley finds the necklace she bought Hope in Lagos sitting on the side of her windowsill, chain hanging off the edge.

It’s not strange that she’s found a place in Hope’s life, it’s only the place itself that’s strange. They connect comfortably in a way Kelley has only experienced with a few other people. It’s the strange, undefined nature of their relationship that stays out of grasp. Sure, they’re friends and they’re having pretty great sex if she says so herself, but there seems to be a gap between those two things that Kelley isn’t used to. There’s no permanence to their arrangement, no promises.

She thinks that’s probably what Hope is used to, but it sits strangely on her shoulders.

-

Hope throws a party on Kelley’s third night there, a celebration for her Sounders teammates and a sort of welcome home gig. They spend Saturday morning molding burgers with their hands and stringing together vegetable kabobs. Everyone start rolling in around four, drinks and food in hand. Kate brings potato salad and Hope hugs her when she comes in, then leads her off into the kitchen.

Syd shows up with Alex a few minutes later, a tray of cupcakes in hand, and Kelley is just short of thrilled to see someone she actually knows. She throws her arms around both their necks and pulls them into a hug.

“Hey!” Syd squeals. The cupcakes are getting smushed between them. Kelley takes them and leads the way to the kitchen, dropping the box off on the dining room table. Alex is pulled off into conversation by another of the players and Sydney veers to the right, bypassing the kitchen.

“Hey Kelley, I’m gonna put my bag in your room, okay?” Syd is already halfway down the hall to the guest room and Kelley darts out in an attempt to stop her.

“Oh, you can just leave it-” But Syd’s already opening the guest room door and Kelley knows exactly what she’ll see: an immaculately clean room with no signs of life. It’s not like she’s even stepped foot in that guest room. Syd stops in her tracks and her eyes sweep the room; after a moment, she turns back to Kelley.

“Last time I checked, you were not this clean, Kell.” Syd gives her an eyebrow.

Kelley stands in the middle of the hallway, weighing her options.

“Well, I haven’t really…” She trails off.

“Slept in here? Then where-“ Kelley sees the exact moment it all clicks together because Syd’s eyes widen dramatically. Her mouth drops open. “Seriously? Kelley.” She’s walking closer, the bag in her hand forgotten, and doesn’t stop until they’re close enough that no one could overhear. “Are you and Hope…?”

Kelley tilts one shoulder.

“Sort of?” She admits.

“Oh my god!” Syd puts two hands on Kelley’s shoulders and grips them tightly. Kelley offers her an awkward smile and the excitement in Syd’s eyes dims. She picks up on Kelley’s reluctance to talk about exactly what it is she and Hope are doing, and she squeezes Kelley’s shoulders one more time before letting go. “I’m happy for you two.” Is all she says before taking Kelley’s hand and dragging her into the kitchen for a drink.

-

They migrate out onto the cold patio around the pool once the food has been eaten and the sun’s gone down. After a handful of beers, Hope's cheeks turn pink. Kelley meets her college friends and various teammates, their names and faces an unending whirl.

Kelley leans beside on Hope the wood railing surrounding her patio and Hope’s hand finds Kelley's waist. Her fingers drag slow circles there, her hand mostly hidden in the dark corner. Kelley turns into her and Hope pulls her a little closer, their hips brushing, their faces a little too close as Hope looks down at her.

When Hope pushes of the railing, her hand reaches back for Kelley. Their fingers intertwine. No one seems to notice, too caught up in their own drinks and conversation, and no one would probably care if they did. But Kelley does catch Syd’s eye on the way back inside. She actually winks at the two of them. Beside her, Pinoe raises a teasing eyebrow.

“Syd knows.” Kelley tells Hope once they’re in the garage by themselves. Leo is scampering around as best he can at his age and Kelley bends down to pet him, trying to calm him a bit. Captain Sully glares at them from the top of the fridge.

“Knows what?” Hope asks, pouring water in Leo’s bowl.

“About us.” Hope glances up at her, and Leo bounds from Kelley to his water bowl to start lapping up fresh water.

“Are we that obvious?” Hope smirks. She saunters over to Kelley.

“She noticed I wasn’t sleeping in the guest room and put it together.” Kelley stops Hope with a soft hand to her cheek.

“She won’t tell anyone.” Hope says, turning into Kelley’s touch.

“I know.” Kelley leans up on her tiptoes to kiss her. Hope's wandering fingers outside on the deck, how bright and beautiful her eyes look tonight, how dangerous it was to have her so close and not be able to kiss her- it all melts down into this kiss, their embrace a little heated and suggestive. Hope bites down on Kelley's bottom lip and lets it go slowly. Kelley's hand begins to slide beneath Hope's shirt, reaching warm skin. At their feet, Leo dodges around them. He lets out one ecstatic bark and they break apart, laughing.

“Okay bud, let’s go see everybody.” Hope leans down to scratch behind his ears and he wags gleefully at her. She holds her hand out to Kelley again and Kelley takes it, still a little surprised after all this time. They open the garage door and he trots out before them.

-

Hope gets up early and slips out of the front door while mist still crowds the streets of her neighborhood, Leo tugging on the leash in front of her. The morning is cool and damp, almost like suspended rain hanging around her, and her footsteps disappear into the fog.

When she gets back to her house, her hair is damp and frizzed. She dries Leo off with the towel in the garage and lets him free in the house, then heads upstairs for her own towel. When she rounds the corner to her bedroom, she sees her bathroom door cracked open, steam spilling out of the bottom. She pushes it open, planning to grab a towel and get gone, but Kelley is standing in front of the sink with a towel knotted above her chest. She’s brushing her teeth, her hair in a bun behind her head.

She turns when Hope walks in and flashes an adorable smile around her toothbrush. She spits once into the sink and rinses.

“Good morning.” She steps forward and kisses Hope on the cheek, before stepping around her. “You’re damp.” She calls over her shoulder.

It’s suddenly far too domestic in her room, Kelley with her own toothbrush, wrapped in a towel, kissing her good morning. Hope grabs a towel off the rack with one hand and, gripping it tightly in her fist, disappears through her bedroom and out into the hallway while Kelley’s still staring into her suitcase.

Hope sits down at her kitchen counter, towel deposited next to her. It rolls over her like a wave, this realization that she and Kelley have been living together for the past week- cooking together, feeding Leo and Captain Sully, curled up on the couch together watching tv, slow and lazy sex on her mornings off - what is she _doing_?

She knows better than to get involved with a teammate. Really, at one point this entire thing would have seemed insane to her. But nothing could have prepared her for Kelley.

This thing was supposed to be simple, anyway. No strings and no commitments, just trust and whatever they needed it to be. She realizes she may have taken this too far, to a place she can’t turn back from. That _they_ can't turn back from. That what she needed from Kelley was more than she anticipated; that Kelley is so much more than she expected.

She likes Kelley here and she likes not being alone, but she can’t- she can’t have Kelley. She isn’t looking for anything but what they were, the vague and comforting impermanence of it.

She’s been really stupid.

Kelley comes down ten minutes later. Hope is still staring at through the kitchen window.

“Everything okay?” Kelley asks. She walks around the counter to see Hope’s face. Hope blinks out of her thoughts and her eyes meet Kelley’s brown.

“Yeah.” She shakes her head and musters a smile for Kelley.

In two days, Kelley will be gone again and Hope will have time and space to sort this out. But that’s then and for now she gets up to make a pot of coffee for the both of them.

 

_bradentown, florida_

Less than a week after Kelley leaves Seattle, they’re back in camp. Florida in April is sort of wonderful, but after Seattle the hiding becomes harder. It’s impossible sometimes to disguise the intimate way they interact. Kelley is tactile, hands always reaching for Hope and then remembering themselves. For all of Hope’s prickliness, she reaches out just as often. Neither of them were built to be any good at a secret relationship. Ashlyn almost catches Hope’s arm wrapped snugly around Kelley’s waist and they’re pretty sure LeP saw them holding hands after dinner.

Hope is distant, her kisses a shade more rare than before. Kelley knows her too well, reads the hesitation in her touches. She blames the hiding. It’s hard to go from being on their own, free to be how they wanted together, to hiding it again from a team of friends who know them too well.

It’s becoming old. It’s becoming a tremendous pressure on the both of them to hide in secret.

-

Hope sighs and shoots Kelley a _look_. It’s only somewhat softened by the way Hope’s buried under a pile of throw blankets, her sock feet sticking out from the bottom. They’re both exhausted, two-a-days and workouts piling up as they train in preparation for the Olympics, but Jill goes out to dinner and Kelley can’t turn down an empty hotel room with Hope. Even bending over to turn on the tv hurts, though, and she stretches, feeling the pull in her back.

“ _You_ promised.” Kelley reminds Hope. She grabs the remote off the table and jumps onto the bed next to Hope, who can’t be that annoyed because she lifts the blankets to let Kelley snuggle in next to her. It’s wonderfully warm underneath them. Kelley starts clicking through channels.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Hope grumbles, her mouth just above the edge of the blanket.

“I watched the _Real Housewives_ with you yesterday; I think you can handle one episode of _Glee_.”

“Even the name is-” Hope doesn’t finish her sentence. She wrinkles her nose in distaste. Kelley wants to be annoyed but the face is too cute; instead, she leans over and captures Hope’s earlobe between her teeth. Hope’s breathing hitches. Kelley lets it go.

“We could make a trade.” Kelley says, her breath bouncing off Hope’s ear. Hope gives her one of those looks, side-eyed and dangerous, and Kelley barely has time to gasp before Hope has her on her back.

“Or we could just do this.” Hope’s mouth on her neck is unfair.

“After Glee.” Kelley says, but she’s grinning, her hands ineffectual on Hope’s biceps. _Glee_ is forgotten, for now.

When Kelley finally sneaks back to her own hotel room just before midnight, every ache from a day of training has faded away. She’s sleepy and relaxed, and for a moment she forgets about the strange tension that has been settling between her and Hope.

-

On the bus the next day, though, Hope is reserved and moody, leaving her sunglasses on even when they’re in the bus. She sits by the window and stares out at the steamy Florida morning. Kelley wants to push, but she hesitates. She doesn’t want to face Hope’s cold shoulder, a fate she thought she’d escaped after their last night in Lagos.

Ashlyn peeks over the back of the seat in front of them. Even in this Florida weather, she’s wearing long sleeves and pants to training.

“Hey!” She says and ducks back down. Kelley glances over at Hope, who turned at Ashlyn’s voice. Her eyes are still covered but she looks once at Kelley.

“Hey.” Kelley says quietly, but Hope just gives her a tight smile.

“Hey.” She answers, and then Kelley _watches_ Hope shut down. She shifts from Kelley’s side, almost imperceptibly, but so that they’re not touching anymore. She turns her gaze out the window. Her face becomes blank. It frustrates Kelley to no end. But they’re in a team bus, surrounded by teammates, and they can’t talk about this here.

Kelley dips around into the aisle and to the other side of Ashlyn’s chair.

“Hey!” She says back, almost into Ashlyn’s ear. Ashlyn jumps. Beside her, Whit is laughing.

“Oh haaay.” Ashlyn gives her a duck face, then nods her head back at Hope and lowers her voice. “What’d you do to your seatmate.” It’s a relief that Hope’s terrible mood isn’t just evident to Kelley, and at the same time more of a concern. But Kelley just gives one brief shrug. They all know better than to talk to Hope when she doesn’t want to be messed with.

Kelley just thought she was the exception.

-

Kelley is without Hope more than she’s with her in Florida. She begins to feel like she’s chasing her, always a step behind. She doesn’t like it. After they scrimmage the U-17 boys’ team, Kelley barely makes it to her hotel room before sprawling on her floor. She needs to make it to the shower but it is too far away currently. Her eyes slide shut. Even her fingers hurt, courtesy of a boom of shot that she handballed just outside the box. They boys were fun, if mildly cocky at times, and they ran them ragged.

Press has left camp early and Kelley has the hotel room to herself. She stares up at the ceiling.

There’s a knock on the door. Kelley just yells, “come in!”

To her surprise, Hope walks through the door. Kelley shifts up onto her elbows.

“Oh, hey.” Kelley watches Hope trudge across the room and sit down a few feet away, her socked feet splaying across the carpet.

“Hey.” Hope groans. She sags back against the bed. “I’m getting old.” She cracks one eye open at Kelley, who just grins.

“You don’t have to tell me-” She doesn’t even finish before Hope is tossing a damp towel at her. Kelley swats it away and sits up fully. “Can we just… lay in bed and watch movies all night.” She asks, leaning her cheek onto one hand. Hope looks at her for a moment and through her eyes shines affection, peeking out from behind her walls.

“That sounds great.” She says quietly.

It’s the last night in Florida that Hope spends with her and they mostly doze against each other, talking tiredly with the lights down low. Hope is different. Kelley can’t put her finger on exactly why. She seems to be more conscious of her movements, her words, than she ever was before. There’s a gap growing between them, filling with frustration and things that go unsaid. Kelley feels like it falls to her to bridge it.

 

_may, 2012._

_atlanta,georgia._

Kelley calls Hope from home.

She drinks a glass of wine with dinner, some expensive white her mom tries to describe to her. It makes her feel light, even with all the food, and she carries it onto the back deck with her. After a hop and a bit of maneuvering she settles onto the railing. Her legs swing to and fro. There’s a breeze outside and the fireflies dot the woods like fairy lights.

Hope answers on the fourth ring.

It’s the first time she’s heard Hope’s voice since they left Florida; it makes her heart clench. Missing Hope crashes into her like a wave. Why didn’t they make plans to visit? She can imagine how that would go: _hi mom and dad, you know Hope right? Well._ It wouldn’t have worked but that doesn’t stop her from wishing it would.

Hope sounds happy to talk to her, at least. They have too much to catch up on and the call goes on until Kelley is yawning into her hand and the fireflies have disappeared, leaving the woods behind her house dark and quiet. The sounds of Hope’s soft good night follows Kelley to bed that night, and she goes to sleep with an uncommon sort of satisfaction.

-

Kelley calls Hope from the bar.

She knows she probably shouldn’t. It’s just after midnight and she’s had one too many- or maybe two too many, of those eight percent craft IPA’s that always sneak up on her. Hope would make fun of her for them.

She walks outside with her phone and leans against the rough brick of the building. It’s warm outside, her cheeks flushed from alcohol and an early May heat wave, but she’s almost comfortable in her tank top and shorts.

Hope answers just before her voicemail picks up.

Her voice is awake and clear, Kelley will remember in the morning. Kelley can’t help picturing her on the sofa in her den, Leo laying next to her while the tv plays. Kelley tries to fit her letters and vowels into perfect, clear arrangements of words, but they slip sometimes and her sentences gets muddled.

She wakes up the next morning and stares at the _22 minutes_ time stamp of their phone call, trying to remember what they talked about. Nothing, probably. How slow it is in Georgia. How much Kelley’s misses Hope’s hands.

She texts Hope, but it goes unanswered all morning. She finally responds around noon.

Kelley waits for her to call that night, but it never comes.

 

_princeton, new jersey_

Their game of phone tag carries on throughout Kelley’s visit home. Too many missed phone calls and unanswered texts go between them. The gap grows wider. Hope’s unavailable until she isn’t, and even then Kelley doesn’t know which version she’ll get; the Hope that’s short with words or the one Kelley knows, who laughs at her bad puns and tells her stories about her strange neighbors.

Kelley doesn’t know what’s going on. All she knows is that it’s been four months of them, that she’d still rather be around Hope than anyone else, and that Hope is hurting her feelings.

That, and that this camp in New Jersey is crucial in deciding the Olympic roster and the whole reason she’s here is to get on that Olympic roster. To get in the starting lineup of that Olympic roster. She doesn’t need this distraction. They need to sort it out.

-

A handful of them gather in Kelley’s room to watch a movie one night. Syd and Kristie suggest Harry Potter and the idea gets thrown around before getting shot down. Ashlyn makes a pretty strong case for the Fast & the Furious but Kling and Tobin back Kelley on Finding Nemo until Alex finally caves, bringing Whit and Syd with her. There’s a bit of shifting about until everyone can see the tv and Kelley drags a pillow into her arms and leans back against the headboard.

There’s literally never a point at which someone’s not talking, but that’s sort of Kelley’s favorite way to watch a movie.

Almost halfway through, there’s a quick knock on Kelley’s door.

“Come in!” Kling yells. The door’s already swinging halfway open, revealing a suddenly stalled and awkward Hope. Kelley’s eyes widen. There’s a brief of moment of silence, and the Hope raises a singular eyebrow.

“Finding Nemo?” Hope’s face is so unimpressed it’s funny.

“You can blame Kelley for that.” Ashlyn speaks up from the floor.

“Why am I not surprised?” Hope’s eyes finally meet Kelley’s, if only briefly, and they’re warm with familiarity.

“Want to join us?” Syd asks, already shifting on the bed to make room.

“That’s okay.” Hope turns and her eyes catch Kelley’s one more time before she heads out, sticking a hand up in a half-wave goodbye.

“I’ll be right back.” Kelley pushes up off the floor and follows Hope out of the room, not sticking around for the strange looks her friends are exchanging. When she makes it out the door, Hope is already halfway down the hall.

“Hey!” Kelley calls softly. Hope turns. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay? That pillow’s a sorry replacement for you.” Kelley stops just in front of her. She’s always thought Hope was irresistible in sweatpants and sleep clothes, so soft and approachable and warm. And beautiful, too, like she is under these dim hallway lights.

“It’s okay, I don’t want to crash.” But Hope looks a little put out and disappointed, like she came looking for Kelley and couldn’t have her. Kelley gives Hope’s shoulder a squeeze.

“You’re my best friend. I love you.” She tries to ignore the flicker of something in Hope’s eyes when she says those words. She presses on. “You’re always welcome wherever I am.” She rocks Hope back by the shoulder again, smiling sweetly up at her, looking for that smile back.

Finally, Hope cracks. She rolls her eyes a bit, but she gives Kelley a smile.

“I’m still not watching Finding Nemo with you.” She says, but pulls Kelley into a quick, hard hug. When she pulls back, she leaves a solitary kiss on Kelley’s forehead. “I’ll see you later.”

Hope walks away down the hall. Somehow, even though their words were hopeful, Kelley can’t help feeling like she’s lost something. Like Hope should be heading back to her room with her.

It wasn’t too long ago that Hope was ready to be wherever Kelley was.

-

She spends all night thinking about it, about the absence of Hope the past week. She’s quiet and not paying attention to the movie, and when everyone finally heads off to their room, Syd gives her a curious look and hangs back.

“Is everything okay?” She asks, moving to sit on the edge of Kelley’s bed. Kelley is still clinging to that pillow.

“Hope’s just been weird.” Kelley lets her legs stretch out in front of her. She picks at the threads of the comforter. Syd’s quiet for a moment before she speaks.

“Look, I don’t know exactly what’s going on between you two, but everyone knows how important you are to each other. Whatever’s going on, you can work it out.”

“It’s more complicated than that.” The corner of Kelley’s mouth quirks down.

“I’m sure it is. Maybe you just need some space.” Syd offers. “It can rough being around each other so much, especially with all the pressure right now.”

“I don’t think space is what we need.” Kelley sighs. “But thanks.” Syd gives her a gentle shove against her shoulder. Her voice is apologetic.

“Anytime, KO.”

 

_chester, pennsylvania._

The Olympic roster is officially announced while they’re outside of Philadelphia. It’s gratifying to see her name up there with everyone else’s, beside Pearcie's and Abby’s and Boxxy’s. She stares at it on her computer screen.

Her family calls her to congratulate her again, officially, her parents talking over each other on speakerphone. That’s what makes it feel real. She plays soccer because she loves the lifestyle; not just the easy parts, the traveling and the freedom, but also the way it challenges her every single day. Soccer drags her out of bed and sometimes kicks her ass, and that’s what she’s in it for. That constant drive to be better than you were yesterday, to be the best you can make of yourself.

She does soccer for herself, but when her parents call her with pride practically dripping through the telephone wires, she feels it all over again.

She’s going to London; she’s going to the _Olympics_. She’s going to be an _Olympic athlete_.

What an incredible experience.

-

Kelley wakes up the morning before their match with her nose buried in Hope’s hair. She rolls over and yawns. Her arms reach high above her head. Beside her, Hope doesn’t stir.

They play China today. Hope’s single room has been too much of a temptation to resist, even though Kelly’s roommate is bound to get suspicious and even though Hope herself spends the evening staring at her phone while Kelley watches tv. There’s moments when Kelley wonders what she’s even doing there, thinks about just walking back to her hotel room.

But it’s because of this, because of waking up to Hope asleep against her, her hand on Kelley’s thigh. She’s still sleeping, soft and lovely, and Kelley realizes she’s more comfortable now than she will be when Hope wakes.

Hope still feels like home. More than ever, Kelley understands her. It makes it harder. This space widening between them.

-

They wear their new bright red and white jerseys, eleven Waldos on a field. The kits are actually sort of growing on Kelley. Hope looks incandescent in bright blue; her eyes are like blue vitriol, sharp and icy and intimidating.

They win amidst the genuine cheers of a stadium full of fans wishing them well. It’s a beautiful night and a beautiful game and when Hope drags Kelley under her arm after the match, it only aches a little bit. Kelley leans into her, an old habit by now, reaching out to brace herself under Hope’s height. For a moment, she forgets.

Then, Hope lets go and disappears and Kelley is left standing next to Mittsy and wondering why she feels the need to follow.

-

That night, Kelley pads over to Hope’s hotel room with her hair still wet. She wants to say goodbye before they fly out in the morning, knowing she won’t see Hope until they’re in Sweden in a week. But when she knocks on the door, it takes a long minute for Hope to open. When she does, she stares down at Kelley with walled off eyes. Kelley just looks at her for a moment, arms folded across her chest. Hope steps back to let Kelley into the room.

“We need to talk.” Kelley says firmly. Hope reads her tone and her body language and crosses her own arms, and that’s when Kelley realizes coming in with guns blazing was not her best move with Hope.

“Okay.” Hope folds her arms across her chest. “Talk.” Kelley lets out a breath and tries to release some of her frustration with it.

“I feel like you haven’t been around much lately. Is there something going on that I don’t know about?” Hope’s eyes are quick, scanning across Kelley’s face, and Kelley can see the wheels turning in her head; the moment where she decides to censor herself. Hope is terrible at censoring herself. She stares at the opposite wall while she searches for words. “Stop doing that.” Kelley says. “Just tell me what you’re thinking.” Hope’s arms tighten across her chest at the same moment her jaw clenches.

“I think we shouldn’t do this anymore.” The words clatter down between them. Kelley takes a step back.

“Is there a reason or…”

“I think it’s too much of a distraction while we’re both with the team.” Hope’s words almost seem practiced, and she delivers them with an eerie sort of composure that makes Kelley feel like Hope’s not here at all.

“Where is this coming from? Because I don’t think you’ve ever called it a distraction in, you know, the four months we’ve been doing this.”

“I just think we should stop, Kelley.” Hope’s tone bridges no argument. “Isn’t that enough?”

“No, it’s not enough! You can’t just-”

“We can still be friends!” Hope interrupts.

“Why can’t we be exactly what we are?”

“Because it’s too hard!” Hope finally explodes. “Because I can’t give you what you want. I can’t be this- girlfriend or whatever you want from me!”

“When have I ever asked you to be my girlfriend?” Kelley retorts. Hope is silent, one hand tangled in her hair. She turns, shielding her bright eyes from Kelley. “I don’t want anything more than this, Hope. I like how we are. I can’t imagine not-.”

“That’s the problem, Kelley. I can’t either. What if we-”, Hope breaks off and blows out a ragged sigh. “This wasn’t supposed to be complicated.”

“It got complicated when you stopped talking to me.” Kelley says. Hope just shakes her head, a wry smile forming on her mouth. It’d be a little insulting if not for the bright sheen of tears threatening in Hope’s eyes. Kelley realizes she’s still holding back, and _that_ hurts.

Hope turns to look at her again, and this time her eyes meet Kelley’s and connect.

“I just need some space.”

Kelley’s at a loss, Hope's words affirming her previously vague fears. She can only nod, an empty gesture. She moves around Hope to leave and Hope seems like she might stop her, for just a millisecond looks like she’s poised to move, but she stills and lets Kelley go. Kelley walks numbly through the hotel hallway.

She sits down on the toilet seat in her bathroom and cries; tries to pretend that she doesn’t know why.

-

The next morning is all shades of gray for Kelley.

Kelley sits with Mittsy at breakfast when Hope doesn’t come down, grateful for any distraction. She can’t stop replaying _I don’t want anything more than this_ and wanting to believe it’s true.

She pretends that it doesn’t hurt when Hope doesn’t find her to say goodbye.

She can’t stop hearing Hope’s voice, breathless and bouncing off Kelley’s lips when she said _it’s just sex_.

 

_june, 2012_

_halmstad, sweden._

Kelley sees Hope for the first time in a week in the lobby of their hotel in Sweden, beautiful and aloof, _hers_. Every part of her inherently familiar. Kelley’s heart expands but it’s a bittersweet feeling, not as simple as it used to be.

The team is spread out on lobby couches and Kelley is muted when she walks over. Hope looks up and sees her and her expression changes, from _hello_ to _hey_ to her face in Kelley’s neck when Kelley finally makes it to her side. Her hug is tight and familiar (at least that’s the same).

When they touch, Kelley’s whole being responds. She doesn’t know how to stop it.

The smattering of text messages exchanged over their break were awkward and brief, barely grazing the surface. Kelley can’t stand that sort of détente; it’s a relief that it won’t be that strained when they’re with each other.

They sit next to each other during a brief introductory meeting and Kelley reaches out with her pinky to brush Hope’s hand, pretending it’s accidental, childish and trivial. Hope lets her.

They separate after the meeting, Hope disappearing somewhere in the hotel.

Kelley spends the day missing her.

-

Apparently it’s impossible for them to give each other space now that they’re in the same city. They walk the streets of Halmstad one afternoon, pointing out all the Swedes in Converse and drinking European coffee. It’s not the same as before. It’s not as easy. But it’s something.

Hope seems more comfortable now that there’s a tense line drawn between them. Kelley wishes she didn’t understand it, but she does. The pulling away, the hiding. How vulnerable they’ve made each other over the past few months.

She begins to think that they’re friendship might not survive this and it terrifies her.

Hope comes knocking on her door Saturday night and Kelley wants to remind her, _you wanted space_ , but she just lets her in. At least it will ease the low ache in her stomach that comes with knowing she has to miss her from three doors down.

They sit crosslegged on Kelley’s bed and order an old Donkey Kong video game off the hotel tv. By midway through the second game, they’re both laughing, Hope nudging into Kelley’s shoulder. For a second, Kelley just forgets. She feels light again.

They beat the second level and the loading screen comes up, dancing monkey and all, the music echoing through the room. Kelley turns toward Hope, a half-smile still on her mouth, and she’s not expecting it when Hope leans in and kisses her.

It’s been days.

Kelley leans into it and kisses her back, slow and cautious, like they’re doing this for the first time all over again. Hope pushes her back into the bed, straddles her hips, and the game controller falls forgotten to the floor.

They’re no good at keeping away from each other.

-

Training starts the next morning.

Kelley’s heart clenches whenever she sees Hope. Something in her reaches out and receives nothing in return. Hope gives her half-smiles, half her time, half of herself. Kelley thinks herself in circles over it, on why it isn’t working, on why the one person she feels drawn to without fail is slipping out of her fingers.

The thing is, there’s nothing she can argue. She can’t say: you promised this. You made me believe that. Because she didn’t, because Kelley didn’t push for definitions or clarifications and now they’re gliding apart like they happened to bump together by chance. Like it _was_ just sex. Like Kelley doesn’t know the things that make Hope hurt; doesn’t know the things that scare her.

And beneath all that, away from the logic of what she can see is happening, is the simple, unspoken truth that she knows. That she sees glimmer in Hope’s eyes in that hotel hallway in New Jersey; in an ice room in Tokyo; in Kelley’s bed in Lagos. She doesn’t have to hear it to know the truth of it. She can _feel_ it. In every fierce kiss, in every tight hug, in the way Hope touches her in the morning when they wake up together.

She struggles against putting a name to it for so long that when the syllables finally come, they almost seem anticlimactic: _love_. Hope loves her, and it’s impossible to hold back the waterfall of her own feelings after that.

Kelley laces up her cleats on the pitch in Sweden, watching Hope do the same across the field, and thinks it over and over in her head, trying it out against all the time they’ve spent together, against every interaction: _love love love_.

-

But if it’s love, Hope must not want it to be. She’s gone, like that, no dinners, walks or movies after a long day of training. She’s not gone, really, because she’s still texting Kelley back and they still see each other, but she’s not _there_ anymore. Kelley no longer knows the simplest things about her, about her day.

Twice, she shows up to Kelley’s room when Becky is gone and twice, Kelley lets her in. Each time Hope’s hands skate over her back and thread through her hair, Kelley can’t help thinking: _don’t stop touching me if you don’t plan on doing it again_.

The only time Hope is really there is when they’re warm and naked and she’s muttering Kelley’s name.

The sound of it starts to hurt.

-

They play Sweden and Japan in Halmstad. Soccer is pure salvation. She can lose herself on the field. Even when Hope’s out there with her, the only thing she’s thinking about is where the ball is and where she should be. Her new position is still not instinctive, but she loves the challenge of it. She loves figuring out something new about it.

Kelley doesn’t get minutes in the Sweden game, but she helps pull her team to a 4-1 victory over Japan, their first win over them since before the World Cup. She understands that Pia wants to move them around a bit. She doesn’t let it get to her. She’s getting that starting spot in the U.K. next month.

In a way, everything with Hope is helping. It drives her on when she’d like to quit, knowing she only has an empty hotel room and her own thoughts waiting for her. She puts in the extra time and she can see the improvement, especially since Florida and New Jersey, in her fitness and in the way she approaches the ball. She’s got a Hermann trophy on her side; she tries to use it to her best advantage.

Tobin catches up to her outside of the hotel one night and asks her immediately: _what’s wrong_. Kelley shrugs, the corner of her mouth turning down. She can’t talk about it. She still feels like it’s a secret.

“Let’s go get a beer.” Tobin says, less of a request and more of an order. Kelley follows her through the dim streets, feeling hazy and far away. They order two beers and sip them until they’re warm and flat. They don’t talk about anything consequential, but when Kelley walks back to the hotel she feels lighter than she has in days.

-

Kelley starts spending her free time playing board games with Tobin and Alex, spending hours in hotel rooms that are both inherently familiar and strange, as if she dreamed them up a long time ago. The layout of these hotel rooms rarely change. The materials that make the curtains, the comforters, and the carpet varies from country to country; the print from garish to minimalistic. She likes to read the flat print outs left on the desks, tries to imagine what the hotel is trying to accomplish with a lists of close restaurants or various amenities or a brief history of their city.

Traveling abroad is so different from flying down to Florida for a training camp. There’s history in the old, worn streets of each city and there’s an entire culture to briefly encounter. She likes to see what’s different and what’s exactly the same.

“Yo.” Kelley looks up. Alex and Tobin are staring at her, Tobin slowly waving a hand. Kelley lowers the room service menu.

“Yo.” She echoes.

“Are you okay?” Alex asks. Kelley knows she’s been muted lately, weighed down by the insecurities of her relationship with Hope, but she thought she was hiding it well. By the looks on Alex and Tobin’s faces, she was wrong.

“I’m a-okay.” She says. Alex and Tobin look unconvinced. “Really.”

They let it drop, but Kelley catches them exchanging looks when they think she can’t see. They start sitting on either side of her at meals, like her own personal bodyguards, talking over her head and being protective. Kelley wishes their attempts at distraction would work, but she can’t seem to let them. Worry drags her down at every turn, her eyes flickering over to Hope’s table and then away.

-

Kelley ends up in Hope’s hotel room their last night in Sweden.

The team goes out to dinner together and they drink more red wine than they probably should, letting it run warm in their veins. Some of them stay out; others trail home. Kelley meets Hope’s eyes as they wait for taxis by the front door of the restaurant. She goes back to the hotel.

-

They don’t talk much. As soon as the door shuts behind them, Hope has Kelley against it, kissing her like she can’t help herself. Kelley has felt all of Hope’s kisses- early morning ones, slow and lazy ones, the _you’re cute_ and the ones that say _I miss you_ , but she’s never been kissed by Hope like this.

The way they undress each other is frantic and they fall into bed, hands grasping and commanding. But it’s not quite right, it’s a little too desperate and quick. Still, Kelley rolls with it, Hope’s touch as intoxicating as ever. Hope reaches between her legs without preamble and Kelley stifles the low moan that escapes her. Hope’s circling with two fingers, quick and insistent, but she won’t look at her, won't kiss her. Her face is buried in Kelley's neck and it takes Kelley a long minute before she realizes that the dampness on her shoulder is tears. She puts her hand to Hope's shoulder and pushes her up.

"Hope, are you-" she rolls them over, effectively dislodging Hope's hand. Hope turns her face to the side. Kelley watches her blink wetly. “Hope-.” But a shake of Hope’s head cuts her off.

Kelley waits- every atom in her body was vibrating off-kilter, drunk on adrenaline and affection, hurting- but she waits. She lifts a hand to Hope’s jaw, touches her reverently. Hope turns into it, finally lifting her eyes to Kelley’s.

She shifts up onto her elbows and finally captures Kelley’s mouth again. She tastes of salt. Kelley pulls back just enough to ask:

“Do you want to-“

“I just want you.” Hope’s voice is sharp and urgent, a fever running beneath it. She rolls them back over, keeps her face close. She presses kisses to the tops of Kelley's cheeks and her nose is damp and cool when it touches Kelley's skin, her lips wet. "Let me-" Her fingers are slow again and she knows Kelley too well, knows all the shortcuts and the guarantees.

“Okay.” Kelley’s voice doesn’t sound like her own, too ragged and raw to be recognizable.

When Hope brushes her mouth against that spot behind Kelley's ear, Kelley has to accept that she isn’t playing fair. A part of her feels bruised, feels heavy, but that part is being drowned by the way Hope is muttering her name. Kelley buries on hand into Hope's hair, an anchor. She shuts her eyes and feels how Hope is touching her- in some way not dictated by nerves and neurotransmitters; feels it somewhere beyond herself. It‘s never been like this with anyone else.

“Kelley.” Something in Hope’s voice has eased, has been drawn into Kelley’s skin. "Let go for me." Hope's voice is warm against Kelley’s skin. She works faster, cheats really with that one spot, just knows too well. Kelley’s hands run up Hope’s rib cage; her legs start to shake. The blunt edges of her fingernails dig down Hope's shoulders. She’s one long line of tension, wavering, aching- and then Hope puts her lips against Kelley’s collarbone and she lets go; she breaks her own heart and Hope's too.

It comes from somewhere low and strong, makes her toes curl and her hips lift, her hands pulling Hope close, and then she eases back into the sheets.

Hope is damp and hidden and naked in the dark on top of her, a billion atoms away with her cheek on Kelley's shoulder, their legs intertwined.

An acute loneliness overwhelms Kelley. It wells up terrible in her throat, trapping her.

Her hands have fallen to the sheets and she lifts them, and then hesitates. She wants to pull Hope closer, into her; she’s compelled to push her up and off and _away_.

But Hope shifts off her shoulder, rolling onto one hip at Kelley's side, and makes the choice for her. She traps Kelley's arm in place beneath her.

Kelley can just make out the wide, tired shape of her eyes.

She leans up for a kiss and Kelley turns her mouth at the last second, catches it on the corner of her lips.

She can’t be in this room any longer without crying. She tugs her arm out from under Hope.

“I think I should go.” Kelley mumbles, rolling over in the sheets and standing on the other side of the bed. She’s chilled, sweat cooling rapidly on her skin. She swallows down the impulse to cry but her eyes fill anyway. Her dress is on the floor, her underwear on the other bed. By the time’s she’s dressed, Hope is standing too. The sheet drapes from her collarbone to the floor, her hands dark against the cloth.

Kelley should say something- something reassuring- or maybe Hope should be the one saying something, but neither of them say a word.

Kelley grabs her phone and her key card off the desk and the door clicks shut after her.

-

Kelley wakes up in her hotel room feeling empty.

Hope sleeps four doors down but Kelley knows she’s further than that. They fly out a few days later. Sweden leaves a bitter taste in Kelley’s mouth, a low ache behind her ribs.

They can’t keep doing this.

 

_  
seattle, washington._

Hope calls her twice, but her voice through the phone sounds like an apology and nothing more. Kelley clenches the phone too tightly in her hand, staring blankly at her floor.

She drives to Seattle for the weekend.

The only explanation she can muster is that she wants to burn it to the ground so she won’t ever have to wonder if she gave it all she had.

She’s going to give it all she has.

At this point, she wants it to break her.

-

Hope swings open her front door but there’s no welcoming grin this time. In its place, the strain of a false smile makes lines on Hope’s face.

“Hey.” She says, stepping forward for a hug. Kelley swallows down her regular _hey you_. It doesn’t feel right. Their embrace is brief and lacking in warmth, but Kelley can’t deny that it’s nice to have Hope this close. “I was about to make a pot of coffee, do you want some?” Hope shuts the door after her and Kelley walks up familiar steps into the kitchen.

“Sounds good.” The words catch in her throat. Leo comes bounding over, tail wagging so wildly his whole body is shaking. Kelley can’t help her grin. She bends down to pet him while Hope edges around her and into the kitchen. “I’m gonna use the bathroom.”

“Okay.” Hope’s voice echoes into her cabinets and through the kitchen.

The quiet solitude of the bathroom is a relief; it’s a striking thought that she’d rather be away from Hope than with her. She suddenly wonders why she came, her empty eyes staring back at her in the mirror. All this feels like is chasing smoke. Kelley smoothes her hand over the top of her hair and lets out a slow breath. It takes a count of three to force herself out of the bathroom and back into reality.

She walks back out to smell of fresh, rich coffee. Hope is pouring her a cup, making it exactly how she takes it. Kelley sits down and Leo comes up to her, nosing into her hand and licking at her wrist. Hope brings the two cups to the kitchen table, sets one in front of Kelley.

“He needs a bath.” Hope comments, but she still reaches out to scratch between his ears. “Maybe tomorrow.” She says, almost to herself. Kelley lifts her mug to her lips. The silence spreads thickly between them, leaving an awkward pause behind. Finally, Hope says: “I’m glad you came.”

Kelley sits back, huffing out the smallest, cruelest laugh.

“Are you really?” She bites out. Hope’s face is shuttered and serious, her eyes never losing Kelley’s gaze.

“I’m sorry things didn’t work-” She begins, but Kelley shakes her head.

“Don’t give me that bullshit-“

“It’s not bullshit!”

“-when you won’t even _try_. You won’t even _talk_ to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Hope says, her hands tightening around her coffee mug.

“Do you really not even care? Has this- is this really nothing to you?”

“Of course I care.” Hope leans forward. “Of course I care, Kelley. I care about _you_. But I just- can’t handle all of this right now. I don’t want to fight.” She sighs and it sounds defeated; worn through.

Kelley just stares at her, at the way she’s sitting with her arms crossed like she’s got to protect herself from Kelley, at the grimace that tugs her mouth down and hardly conceals the emotions in her eyes.

It softens Kelley. It shouldn’t- it should irritate the hell out of her that Hope’s playing the victim in all this, that Hope’s backing away from this argument once again- but she softens, thinking of Hope crying in her arms, of Hope’s hand hesitating in the air whenever Kelley pulls her hand away. She thinks of Hope’s family, of the loss she holds so close to her chest, of the loss that she won’t expose even to Kelley.

“What are you so _afraid_ of?” Kelley asks, even though she knows it’s the wrong thing to say. Even though she knows she won’t get an answer. It’s a truth that needs to be aired.

Hope only looks at her, her mouth a firm line. If this were anyone else, Kelley might see something vulnerable beneath that thin disguise. But Hope’s more stubborn than anyone she’s ever met.

“We can’t keep doing this.” Kelley says finally, her voice resigned. She wishes were as simple as walking away, but she doesn’t think she _could_ walk away from Hope. It’s a resolve she’s trying to build.

Hope’s staring down into her coffee mug.

“Why does this have to be so hard?” It’s not fair of her to ask Kelley that, when Hope has all the power, when Hope is pulling away and Kelley is trying desperately to hold onto her, when this is only hard because Hope can’t even look at her. Kelley finishes her last sip of coffee and stands up to leave.

“Because I love you.” She hesitates, and her next words are only meant to hurt. “I wish I didn’t.”

-

She leaves Hope’s house and drives into the city, her radio off and her car silent.

She calls a friend for an empty couch, knows she still can’t leave, knows all the spaces between her ribs are aching for a reason.

She’s no good at letting things go.

-

She stays with an old college friend who tries to cheer her up with terribly shaped pancake animals in the morning.

“It’s a squirrel.” Sam says, using bacon to make two stubby little arms. Kelley has to laugh.

-

Sam has a group of people over on Saturday night, most of them strangers, and Kelley starts drinking after dinner. Someone puts together a beer pong game and Kelley runs the table with a random bro for a long time, distracting herself with the competition and the endless supply of liquor in her cup.

The night winds down into morning but Kelley keeps her cup half full, sipping at whiskey and Sprite that’s too sickly sweet. It blurs the edges though, makes everything bigger and emptier than it actually is.

People start to leave and she hands out hugs, forcing a laugh and a wave goodbye. She digs her phone out again and finds two messages from Hope waiting for her. Her fingers tap across the screen.

 _Come meet me at Sam’s_. She hits send before some braver part of her takes over.

Two minutes later, she sends Hope an address and a zip code.

 _Ok_. Is all she gets back from her.

-

When Kelley steps outside, Hope’s Range Rover is parked along the curb. The lights are off and there’s nothing to be seen behind the darkly tinted windows. She ducks her head down, hiding her face from the streetlights, and walks over with her arms crossed tight against her chest.

The locks click open when she gets a foot away. She slips inside.

“Hey.” Hope sounds tired. Her hair is thrown up in a bun and her eyes are pink, like she hasn’t slept. She sways in Kelley’s vision. She’s beautiful.

“Hey.” The silence takes over. The car is too quiet with the engine off and no music to take the edge away.

“How was your night?” Hope asks. Kelley shifts sideways in the seat to look at her. The way her soft sleep shirt stretches across tan arms, the veins in her forearms. Hope’s body is turned to Kelley but she stares blankly out the windshield, not really seeing anything.

“It was good. How was yours?” She doesn’t say: _I miss you_.

Hope glances over.

“Pretty quiet.”

“Did you ever get Leo in the bath?” Hope manages a real smile at that. It looks worn at the edges.

“Yeah, but he whined the entire time.” She gives Kelley a look. “You’d think he’d be used to it by now.”

Hope’s hand drops to the console, her forearm resting across her knee, and Kelley takes it for the invitation that it is. Her fingers curl around Hope’s hand, and something sparks warm and familiar behind her ribs. They both watch as Kelley’s turns their hands up and their fingers interlace. Kelley wonders if Hope feels the same low burn in the bottom of her stomach, the same uneven hurt in her lungs; but how could she not?

She wonders if she can feel it past the complicated web of frustration that crisscrosses back and forth between them, hot and tight.

Kelley sighs, very quietly, and lets Hope rub her thumb against the top of her hand. She looks at the sharp, beautiful curve of Hope’s eyes; at how the streetlights make her jaw look chiseled. Something aches.

“Johnny came over today.” Hope says suddenly. “He tried to make a superhero movie.”

“No way.” Kelley giggles, the drink and Hope’s hand making her light and shaky, and Hope rolls her eyes. Kelley watches her mouth curl into a fond smirk.

“Do you want to see?”

Hope pulls her hand away and Kelley leans across the console on her elbows to watch, laughing at Johnny’s bravado and making all the right noises at how sweet he looks. The sounds are too loud and sharp to her whiskey-dulled ears; Hope’s smells too familiar and too good. When the video ends, she looks up to see Hope’s eyes warm with something. She smiles back (always she smiles back, an instinct pulling the expression from her). Her vision is swaying and Hope slips her phone back between her knees.

Hope hesitates, her mouth softening like she’s about to say something, and then Kelley recognizes the look in her eyes. Hope leans in, the only way they know how to communicate anymore, and Kelley puts her hands out, halting her.

She frames Hope’s face with careful fingers, gentle and firm, the softness of Hope’s cheeks filling her palms. Kelley’s had too much to drink and Hope’s face is far away but her eyes are always so sharp and clear. Her jaw is warm and soft. Her eyebrows curve and then smooth out and Kelley can see every crease in her bottom lip.

She’s the prettiest goddamn thing Kelley’s ever seen in her life.

The feeling is too delicate, too breakable and ornate to put into words. It expands until her chest aches with it and she _lets_ it, letting it set every cell into a tailspin. It isn’t a feeling, really, more of a fragility that takes up residence in Kelley’s eyes. A feeling so tiny and delicate that it feels like a raindrop on the end of her tongue. Her whole body is lit up and thrumming with it but she gives it up-- gives it away – she just kisses Hope and swallows it down. Swallows down the things she knows she shouldn’t say, can’t feel. Fills her lungs up with the vowels she can’t let loose.

Every kiss is like a sunburn on her skin.

-

“I should probably head home.” Hope says, after Kelley has tasted the curve of her neck and buried her hands in Hope’s hair. Kelley’s still leaning forward across the console, tugged forward by her inescapable pull towards Hope. She deflates at Hope’s words and sinks back into her own seat. Hope’s fingers grip the bottom of the steering wheel.

Her eyes meet Kelley’s. They’re dark and empty in the dim night. A million things go unsaid.

“Yeah.” Kelley agrees, immediately disliking how quiet her voice is. Her lips are still buzzing, her face flushed with desire. She swallows. “Me too.”

She reaches for the door handle, willing herself to have the simple self-control to leave the car, but it’s all wrong. She should be leaving with Hope. They should be going home. The thought sits like a rock in her stomach.

“Good night.” She says, risking one glance back. Hope’s watching Kelley with unfathomable eyes. “Thanks for coming by.” The words feel like soft punches to old bruises; self-inflicted, always.

“Good night.” Hope reaches forward for her keys in the ignition. Kelley steps out into the street. She hears the rumble of the Range Rover coming to life and listens as it pulls out and quietly drives off behind her. She doesn’t look back. Her whole chest feels like it’s been excavated; like someone emptied it when she wasn’t looking.

She’s crying before she gets to the front steps.

-

She packs up and drives home the next day.

It’s the same old story every time now. Hope holds back until she’s kissing Kelley in the dark and then she disappears. There’s a pattern that Kelley can finally see clearly. As much as letting go of Hope is already hurting her, hanging around would hurt more.

She knows better than to try and make Hope do anything she doesn’t want to do. If she doesn’t want this thing with Kelley anymore- well.

She doesn’t stop to say goodbye.


	4. part three

_july, 2012_

_sandy, utah_

Utah sucks. Who names their city _Sandy_?

Kelley takes to avoiding Hope at all costs, her heart a handicap in her chest. They haven’t spoken. The air seems to weigh ten times as much when they’re in the same room. Kelley suffocates.

They know this is over. They both know this is a breakup. It’s a fucking monster truck into her chest.

-

She gets roomed with Syd and she’s not sure if she should talk about it, but she has to talk to someone. She’s holding all her hurt close to her chest, contained and secret, and it’s burning her. Syd is a good listener, and Kelley tries not to notice how her face darkens the more she hears.

She doesn’t blame Kelley for her own stupidity though, and Kelley can’t thank her enough for that.

“Cheeto?” Syd asks as she walks back into the room one night, a bag from the vending machine extended in her hand. In her other hand is a granola bar and a bottle of water, per their dietary restrictions. “Contraband’s good for a broken heart.” She tells Kelley.

Kelley just rolls her eyes and reaches up for a handful from her mountain of pillows. _Ella Enchanted_ is playing on the tv screen and how is Syd even putting up with her, really? But she is. She plays the 90’s Alternative Pandora station and sings all the Matchbox Twenty songs with Kelley and even lets her Facetime Boss for twenty minutes while he stares unimpressed and annoyed into the phone screen. She drags Kelley along to participate in Mittsy's dumb pranks and makes her laugh when she'd rather yell.

She doesn’t know what she’d do without Syd.

-

Before the match, Kelley lines up in the tunnel behind Hope. It’s fitting Hope’s in all black, like a funeral parade for their relationship. Kelley stands stock still behind her and stares at Erin McLeod instead.

Playing Canada is always unpredictable, and Canada’s own goal only fifteen minutes into the match is fitting of that. Kelley streaks up and down the left side, feeling stronger and more at home in her place at left back than she ever has before. The energy of the crowd is electric. She evens cuts through a couple midfielders to let off a shot at goal, though it’s collected by Erin without much trouble.

Hope makes the save of a lifetime, off balance and lunging across the goal for a deflected ball only to be slid into by Kaylyn Kyle a moment later. Kelley briefly claps afterwards, her face a little grim. The chance is too close for comfort.

Hope yelling at Kelley on the field is the first time she’s spoken to her since Seattle. It’s been days and days, and now she’s looking straight at Kelley from the goal line, pointing at the spot she should be in. They’re both professionals though. It’s not difficult to overlook the complications of their personal life while they’re on the field. Kelley nods once and finds her place.

If she can say anything, it’s that she trusts Hope to have her back on the field.

-

They drag out a win in the second half, hard fought and scrambled for as it always is with Canada. It’s a good send off for the Olympics, a little bit of genuine competition and rivalry to spark their confidence.

Later that night, Kelley lies in bed and stares up at the ceiling in the dark. She can’t sleep and it’s not because she’s excited or nervous for London. It has nothing to do with soccer. She wishes she could be worried about that instead of remembering the way Hope’s fingers felt tangled with hers, but she drives herself crazy over aching memories instead, hands gripping the sheets in frustration. Her heart is ragged and open in her chest, she’s a walking wound, she hurts everywhere for Hope.

She wakes up still clenching the comforter, eyes blurry and red, a weight heavy on her chest.

 

_  
glasgow, scotland ._

They fly to Scotland the second week of July. They plan for a month in the U.K., all the way up to that championship match in London. They know London will shine like the medal itself will. The older players tell stories of the Olympic Village, exchanging knowing glances and smirks, and the younger players can’t help daydreaming about it.

They reach the team hotel where they’ll be training for the next two weeks. Hope accidentally catches Kelley’s gaze from across the lobby; Kelley looks away.

Hope knows she has to fix it, somehow. They can’t play a tournament like this, unable to even look at each other. Hope wonders if the same hurt she sees in Kelley’s eyes is in her own.

Their first night at the hotel, Hope pulls Kelley aside.

“Can we talk?” She asks. Kelley’s eyes are shuttered, no emotion escaping.

“Why?” She asks.

“Please, Kelley.” Hope says firmly. She leads the way out of the side door and onto the gravel path. The hills roll out before them, green and lush. They head down the path a few feet, out under the low hanging green of a tree. The lights glow yellow through the leaves. “I know I hurt you.” Hope says carefully. “And I’m sorry for that. But we can’t go through this tournament not speaking. I want you out on that field with me and in order for that to work, we have to have some sort of working relationship.”

“I agree.” Kelley says. Hope’s mouth shuts.

“Oh. Okay.” Hope hesitates, then holds her hand out. “Friends?” She asks, pretending the words aren’t sharp in her throat.

“Friends.” Kelley says, reaching out to grip her hand for a brief moment.

And then, after all that, they get assigned as roommates.

-

“Are you joking?” Syd says, mouth hanging open. Kelley shakes her head no. “Oh my god. It’s like we’re in a sitcom.” Kelley slumps down in her chair. “And you can’t switch.” Syd muses.

“Switch what?” Tobin asks, walking up to Syd’s side with Alex.

“Rooms.” Syd says without thinking.

“Who are you rooming with?” Tobin asks, turning to Kelley.

“Hope.”

“Isn’t that…a good thing?” Alex asks, tilting her head.

“It’s fine.” Kelley says, standing up. “It’s fine, it’s gonna be great. I’m gonna go unpack.” She walks away.

Behind her, Alex turns on Tobin and Syd.

-

It’s not until their fifth night of at the hotel that they find their rhythm together, a balance of familiar intimacy with structured friendship.

They learn to carefully time their showers after their first night there, when Hope walks out of the shower in a towel to Kelley watching tv. They stare at each other for a moment, a single line of water trailing down Hope’s neck, and then Hope grabs the closest training bag to her and disappears back into the bathroom. She ends up in a track jacket and loose training shorts, the only clothes in the bag, and she sighs with relief when she walks back into the room and Kelley is gone.

They learn not to hang out in the room alone after their second night there when they sit on their own beds silently, trying to ignore the thick line of tension taught between them. Hope tries and fails to read. Neither of them breaks the silence until they finally begin to get ready for bed. Through the dark silence, Hope says _good night_. Kelley’s voice is equally soft when she responds. _Night_. They lie there quietly, neither sleeping.

They learn not to invite people over to break the tension on their third night there, when Syd and Mittsy come over and basically spend the entire evening glancing awkwardly at each other and staring in awe at just how weird Hope and Kelley are acting around each other. Syd gives Kelley a _look_ , wide eyes and eyebrows and _I’m sorry_. Kelley is still learning how to look at Hope without wanting. Hope is trying to make things normal, but her bluntness falls flat in these situations. They keep catching each other’s eye and quickly looking away.

They learn not to share a bed on their fourth night there which _really_ they should have known already, of all the things that have tested their friendship they should have anticipated this one. They put a movie on and without thinking, Kelley hops onto the side of Hope’s bed. She realizes almost immediately what a poor plan that is. They suffer through half the movie, Kelley’s hand tapping nervously against the comforter at regular intervals, Hope sitting like a statue, until Kelley finally breaks and goes to get a drink. When she comes back, she sits on her own bed. It’s not subtle, but it’s better than burning from the warmth of Hope’s body near hers.

On the fifth night, they’ve finally sorted into something acceptable. Kelley comes in late from Alex’s room and brushes her teeth in the bathroom. Hope is already in bed, reading. When Kelley crawls under her covers, Hope clicks her light off.

“Good night.” Kelley says, first this time. The words dissipate into the dark.

“Good night.” Hope says softly. It sounds almost like it used to when they were in bed together, like they just added two feet and a few layers of clothing. Kelley shuts her eyes and pretends Hope is beside her.

 

 _manchester, england_ .

The Olympics are a waking dream. The morning of their first group match it feels like they’re being let out of the stall; a straight shot for the gold. Three matches and three wins in three days. Kelley plays every minute, run ragged and satisfied.

The Olympics are Hope and her against the world and even though it hurts every now and then like a knife against her skin, it’s also easier than she imagined it could be. Being friends, that is. Setting aside all the hurt for later and focusing on the tournament. They know each other better than anyone else. Sometimes they look at each other across the pitch during warm ups and all the aches are washed away; they’re exactly where they need to be and they’re there together. It’s hard to be unhappy when the world’s their stage.

She still reaches for Hope sometimes without thinking about it; a hand on her shoulder, her hip, her thigh. She learns to police their interactions. No touching means no temptation.

Hope is bright and focused and they’re at their best like this. Unstoppable. A team. The awkwardness fades away, even though the fierceness of their connection remains. It’s something that doesn’t fade, no matter how hard they try to box it into certain labels, condense it into the bounds of friendship.

It’s complicated, but they seem to be getting by.

-

After their win in Old Trafford, they meet their families in the hotel. They’re going to Newcastle to play New Zealand in the morning and Kelley texts Ali Riley early in the evening, a quick congratulations despite the weight of this tournament. Not even the shine of a gold medal can diminish her and Ali’s friendship.

Late into the evening, Hope finds her by the drinks table and stops just at her side, carefully not touching her. Kelley is filling a glass with water, trying not to spill it with sleepy hands.

“Tired?” Hope asks. Kelley smiles wanly at her.

“Only mildly delirious.” Kelley answers. “You?”

“You know I don’t sleep.” Hope answers. Kelley has to chuckle. She could never take Hope’s bravado seriously.

“Oh, what do you call that thing where you lay down and shut her eyes?”

“Waiting.” Hope responds. Kelley bursts out laughing.

“You’re so weird.” Hope is grinning at her and their eyes catch. They remember. Kelley slowly sobers. Hope’s eyes are always so intense, never straying from whoever’s the center of her attention, and Kelley can’t believe she used to take for granted how often she was the focus of that gaze.

“Hope!” Hope’s mom is calling to her from a few feet away, and they exchange one more look before Hope disappears into the crowd. Kelley hesitates by the drinks table. Her glass starts to drip down her wrist and she sets it down.

Someone brushes against her elbow and when she glances over, she finds Adrian.

They eye each other for a moment, mutual recognition and an awkward hesitation filling the space between them.

"You must be Kelley." Adrian finally offers his hand. "I've heard a lot about you."

"You have?" Kelley says before she can stop herself.

Adrian smiles, sort of.

"Yeah."

“It’s nice to meet you.” They shake hands briefly. Adrian's palm is warm and clammy. That seems to drain them of conversation topics.

“Did you see where Hope..?” He asks. Kelley jerks a finger in the right direction and he nods and disappears. Kelley finds herself staring at his back as he walks away, wondering things she doesn’t have any right to wonder about anymore.

She’s tired of this endless frustration in her chest, the inability to effect the things she wants- the things she _needs_ from people. But she can’t make someone stick around and love her.

-

They beat Canada in the semi-finals, a game for the ages, and they take the night to celebrate. Their hotel lobby becomes something of a cocktail bar for their families. Kelley sticks around her brother and Alex and Abby, who are running one corner of the lobby, Abby’s arm hooked around Alex’s shoulder. Kelley’s so tired her shoulders are drooping.

Later that night, when everyone is gone and it’s only Kelley only in the hotel room by herself, her phone buzzes. She meanders away from the window to look at it. She isn’t planning on answering.

Hope’s name flashes bright on her screen. Her heart drops.

Before Hope can hang up, Kelley picks up the phone.

“Hello?”

It’s quiet on the line, but Kelley can hear the muffled rumble of conversation. She sinks onto her bed and waits.

“We won.” Hope finally says; her voice is a tragedy. Kelley feels tears well up immediately; hates how this is still the situation between them. Hates that this is how it has to be. That’s she’s tired and only wants to be in Hope’s bed and every emotion is right at the surface.

“Yeah.” Kelley answers, her voice only a little high.

For some reason, she thinks of Hope falling asleep on her shoulder on the plane to Austria only a year ago. She thinks of all the other times Hope has fallen asleep against her. She thinks about how vulnerable she is asleep; how that’s the closest she gets to having Hope’s full trust.

Her eyes are shut but she opens them when Hope says: “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too.” Kelley responds, because it’s all she can feel. A stupid terrible sorrow at just how all of this went. They’re quiet for a minute. Kelley’s heart tests her self control; but what would she do if she asked Hope to come over tonight? They can barely touch each other without it stinging.

Instead, she listens to the soft sounds on Hope’s end of the phone and let’s herself relax into the comfort of Hope’s presence. She misses her, after all. She misses her all the time.

"I love you." Hope’s voice is quiet but clear and it’s a goddamn arrow into Kelley’s chest. It's not a declaration, it's a hushed confession. Kelley is silent; speechless. What’s the point of this? Hope doesn’t say anything more. Her breathing picks up.

"I know." Kelley finally stiltedly answers. So _stupid_ but. “I know.” She repeats. She can’t say the words back because she can’t drag them back out of her; she spends every night drowning them. They spill into her lungs anyway, sharp and dangerous.

“I really am sorry.” Hope chokes out. It sounds like she might be crying, like this is as big for her as it for Kelley, but then the line dies.

Kelley hardly sleeps that night.

-

The next morning, Hope sits next to Kelley on the bus to the practice fields. Kelley knows it’s an apology.

The coffee she hands over, made exactly how Kelley takes it, hurts in ways it shouldn’t.

 

 _london, england_ .

They play Japan in a rematch that is defined by past mistakes rectified. Later, Kelley won’t remember most it, like two hours of an adrenaline rush, every single cell in her body vibrating a millisecond faster. When the final whistles have been blown the team dissolves into each other. Kelley walks away from the huddle in a mild daze, waving to the fans, and finds Hope is beside her.

They walk to the edge of the field together, waving enthusiastically to the fans who are roaring from the stands, taking it all in. Kelley claps back, yells _thank you_! through cupped hands. There are so many faces. Hope is at her side waving just as hard, gloves tucked beneath her arm. They turn away from the stands and share one long, lingering look as they walk back to the team.

This is their win. It’s for the both of them.

They get separated, Kelley running to jump onto Cheney, her grin threatening to split her face in half. T-shirts are tossed around and slung over shoulders, pulled on over jerseys. Kelley finds Syd and holds her shoulders. They’re look at each other with wide, ecstatic eyes and then Kelley pulls her into a hug, laughing into her hair.

 _Gold_ .

It seems like she’s hugged everyone twice and it’s not near enough. Kelley drops from Abby’s arms and turns and Hope is emerging from the crowd, her eyes so bright Kelley can’t see anyone but her.

It all fades. It’s just Hope.

“You did it!” Kelley says as Hope closes in on her.

“You did it!” Hope grins back. She’s stalking towards Kelley, eyes so dangerous.

“We did it!” Kelley says, pointing back and forth between her and Hope. Then Hope is upon her and wrapping her up in a hug that electrifies Kelley, that’s possessive and celebratory and fierce. She clings back, letting Hope get as close as she can, drowning in her. Her face finds that familiar spot in Hope’s neck.

When they break apart, Kelley feels light. She’s breathing fast. They just look at each other, in the middle of the stadium, crowds and team forgotten. Just them.

“I couldn’t have done it without you.” Kelley says.

It’s impossible to not see exactly what they’re both thinking. The emotion’s written clear across both of their faces.

Kelley’s never felt it as honestly and achingly and pointlessly as she does now.

-

After the medal ceremony and the interviews and their talk with Pia, they make it back to the hotel where their families are waiting. Kelley’s mom beings to crying when she sees her. It almost sets Kelley off, too. Her dad wants to discuss every highlight of the match with her, makes goofy faces during her vague recollections, and her sister and brother are already slipping her drinks.

Kelley sees Alex and Tobin’s parents, too, and meets Syd’s mom and wears her gold over her heart , constantly aware of its weight. The American flag is everywhere. She’s won gold for her country. Mittsy appears at her elbow with something green and sweet in a shot glass, a happy, mischievous smile on her face.

At one point, Kelley turns and Hope is there with her grandmother, grinning brilliantly. She’s still in her kit and ponytail and she looks- Kelley just looks away and gives Hope’s grandmother a smile.

“Kelley?” Her grandmother says, and it’s not really a question and then Hope is introducing them. Kelley’s mom wanders over and actually pulls both Hope and her grandmother into a hug; she’s heard Hope’s name from Kelley often enough to feel like they’re already family. Kelley and Hope exchange a look. It’s strange that their families are meeting. Kelley tries not to think about it, sipping her champagne instead.

People begin to head upstairs to change. The team has plans to go out together and celebrate. Kelley hesitates to define them as a team now- they’re family. Alex appears at Kelley’s side and hooks an elbow into hers.

“You ready?”

“Yeah.” Kelley pulls away enough to give her mom a hug and turns to Hope’s grandmother, a smile in place. “It was nice to meet you.” Kelley says, and she gets pulled into another hug. Then Alex is tugging her away towards the elevators, where Mittsy and Syd are giggling and hanging off each other, trouble personified.

Kelley glances back at Hope, standing in place and staring after her, and the look in Hope’s eyes tells her this isn't the last time she'll see her tonight.

-

They end up at a bar, somehow, some way- Kelley’s not entirely sure, there was a bus or something. She and Alex dance to and from the bar. The drinks are always free. It’s amazing. She can’t remember ever being this happy, surrounded by this much energy, this free. She sings with Mittsy, does a shot with Carli, wraps her arm around HAO's shoulders.

By her third drink, she’s ready to dance. Cheney seems down, too.

-

It’s not until hours later and drinks upon drinks that she ends up at the same bar as Hope.

Kelley finds her sitting at a table in the corner with Abby. They're talking far too seriously for this celebration. Abby's hand is curled around Hope's shoulder and she's speaking earnestly, which explains the flat look on Hope's face. But Hope nods and listens intently. She lets Abby squeeze her shoulder.

When Kelley walks up, she catches the tail end of: "...I’m glad it was you back there.” Hope’s eyes meet hers. They're a little glazed and sleepy but they lock onto Kelley's and Kelley can't remember the last time Hope looked at her like that. _Let_ herself look at Kelley like that.

With a clap on Hope's shoulder that tugs her gaze away, Abby takes her leave. She punches Kelley on the arm on her way around them.

The music beats on, dizzy and frantic, and Hope just stares at Kelley. It's almost a challenge.

“Hey you.” Kelley finally smiles, her voice soft. She leans into the table, her balance slightly off. Hope’s medal glints against her chest.

When Hope lays her hand on Kelley's, Kelley looks back at her.

"I couldn't have done this without you." Hope says.

“That’s my line.”

“It’s true.” Hope emphasizes.

Kelley suddenly feels like they're too far apart. She moves around the table, judging the shift of emotions in Hope's eyes, and wraps her arms around Hope's neck. She can't help the sigh that escapes her when Hope returns the awkward hug from her seat. Kelley squeezes tighter.

After a moment, she pulls away. She leaves her hands on Hope’s shoulders, light and unobtrusive. Hope’s giving her that look again, the one she probably doesn’t even realize she’s giving. It’s not desire and it’s not longing. It’s uncomfortably tender with unconcealed affection. It’s tantalizing.

She could follow this down. It would be too easy to walk with Hope back to the hotel, to let Hope undress her and commit another aching night to memory, but it all feels old now. Like picking at a scab, over and over, like pricking the same finger every day.

That doesn't stop her heart from yearning for it.

Kelley drops her hand to put two fingers on Hope's gold, the metal laying directly over her heart, and she’s trying to say _this is ours_. _We did this together. I love you_.

The moment is too heavy. Hope puts her hand over Kelley's again, against her heart, and this time when their eyes meet, there's no challenge, no dare. There’s honesty.

Kelley hates it when Hope looks at her like that. It makes her feel like she could have it all.

She wants to lean forward and kiss Hope; on the cheek, the forehead, the mouth. Anywhere. She doesn’t want to give this up, but she swallows down the impulse. She wants to kiss Hope; she doesn’t kiss Hope. That’s how this thing goes now.

When Hope stands, her dress falls down her legs. She's never looked more beautiful.

She lays two fingers on Kelley's medal, mimicking her actions a moment ago. There are no words left to exchange.

Hope sways forward and Kelley shuts her eyes without thinking. She waits, Hope’s perfume wafting over her, her warmth close enough to feel.

A moment later, Hope is gone. Kelley opens her eyes to the red back wall of the club and reaches up to grasp her medal like a rosary.

This night, their win, the entire tournament: Kelley knows it'll never be anything but bittersweet.


	5. epilogue

_september, 2012._

_rochester, new york._

The victory tour is simultaneously the most fun Kelley’s ever had and an extended effort at letting time take its toll. The handicap of her heart slowly mends, hindered by how often she has to see Hope and by the rumors of her serious new boyfriend. Halted by the way Hope looks in the morning, drinking her coffee two tables away from Kelley like there was never anything between them.

In a way, the new relationship helps. It makes Kelley hate her a little bit.

It’s interesting how much of a different person she seems to be now that they’re policing their every interaction. They still talk- they’re teammates and two-fifths of the backline- but it’s awkward and forced, like they’re both holding back. Kelley supposes they are.

Hope’s new tattoo is an emotional punch to the gut, but it’s one she’s used to getting by now. Kind of like a hello at this point. _Hey, how are you? I’m in love with someone else._ Still, she crowds in to see it, hands reaching for Hope without thinking, any excuse to get next to her after barely speaking for weeks.

Kelley still loves her but she tries to dig the feeling out of herself every single night.

She thinks about the scrawled lettering on Hope’s chest and she knows she’ll never be able to excavate herself of Hope. She’ll simply learn how to sidestep the deep ache that arises every time she sees her.

 

_november, 2012_

_seattle, washington_

Kelley almost doesn’t go to the wedding.

She almost doesn’t go to the wedding for six long weeks, the invitation hanging half-hidden on her refrigerator. She almost doesn’t go through the end of the victory tour, turning the decision over and over in her head, and then reconsiders again after the wave of drama between Hope and her fiancé that splashes in the news the day before.

She almost doesn’t go until she’s standing in front of the reception hall in her dark green dress, hands gripping her clutch.

She sits with Jill at a table off to the side, and downs her glass of wine almost immediately. It’s a survival tactic.

She and Hope are sort of talking now, with three long months separating them from the way things crumbled apart. They talk whenever they’re in camp together, pausing awkwardly in the hallway or gravitating towards each other in the lobby, but as soon as their respective flights leave conversation fades. Still, Kelley called after their last camp to talk about the incoming reality of a new professional league. Hope always seems to know things before anyone else, and even if their conversations walk a strict professional line, it’s better than silence. It’s better than letting her drift completely away, even if Kelley knows she should probably let her go.

Kelley’s still holding onto the pieces, onto bits and shards of what they were. They cut her up.

She flags a waiter down for another glass of wine. Jill doesn’t know the situation and when she comments on how beautiful Hope looks, Kelley just nods and feels the words like knives.

-

It’s a beautiful reception. Hope wears red. (Kelley sort of loves her for it).

Toasts are made, drinks poured. Kelley doesn’t look at Jerramy more than once. Her eyes are on Hope or on her wine glass, always aware of the hot ache and the icy numbness battling for dominance in her heart.

She tries to stay on the fringes, saying hello to all the family and friends she knows (it’s a lot, she realizes quickly. She knows more than half of them). She gets a long hug from Hope’s grandmother and sits with her through the first handful of dances, talking about the holidays and her own family.

It’s inevitable, and she finally runs into Hope on the edge of the room.

For a moment, they just look at each other. Kelley has never seen Hope look so beautiful and yet so distant.

The feeling’s like a heavy book snapping closed at the end of the story.

This Hope is not _her_ Hope.

It stuns her for a moment, and to hide her confusion she reaches up to hug Hope close. It’s not the heady warmth she’s used to; it’s almost like hugging a stranger. Hope is married now. She couldn’t be any more unreachable.

“Congratulations.” Kelley says, and she means it.

“Thank you.” Hope’s smile is soft and happy, even if her eyes are a little sad. There aren’t any more words that wouldn’t sound untrue, so Kelley moves to let Hope pass her by. She does the only thing she’s ever known how to do: she loves Hope and she lets Hope love her in what little, sweet and complicated ways they can manage.

-

Two glasses of wine later, she sits at the table alone. Jill is dancing and all the lights are warm and fuzzy.

“True love wins in the end.” Kelley taps out on her phone, then jams her thumb against the tweet button. Anyone who knew too much could mistake her tone for bitterness, her words like acid if misunderstood; on some level, she can admit to the buried, toxic truth of those old feelings.

But she means it, too, when Hope looks so brilliantly happy with someone who isn’t her. Perhaps this was always how it was meant to be.

Kelley sighs and sits back in her chair, the hand clutching her phone falling limply into her lap.

The irony of it all isn’t lost on her.

-

She only lasts another hour at the reception before giving Jill a quick hug and disappearing. Outside, the night is dark and the air is thick with cold mist.

She takes a cab to a bar down the street, some place all walnut and masculine with lights shining low and yellow from the eaves. Somewhere her granddad would have a drink. She sits down at a corner table next to the front window and the bartender appears at her side barely a moment later.

His voice is low and unobtrusive and he sets a paper napkin down in front of her.

“What’ll it be?”

“Whiskey and sprite.” Her voice is hoarse; she wasn’t expecting that. “Make it double.”

Once he’s gone, Kelley watches the cold streets of Seattle ice with rain. They fit her mood perfectly. A moment later, her drink appears on the napkin. She nods to the bartender, but can’t quite speak.

Her fingertips skate up the condensation on the glass.

The reception feels miles behind her, like a hazy dream, and she finds herself staring out of the window and down the street at the night sky. It gradually disappears and reappears behind the rain clouds. Few people walk the sidewalks, and those that do are outfitted in dark rain jackets and boots. They hunker down from the fall chill, passing shop fronts quickly in their haste to get out of the rain.

Kelley’s alone, and for the first time in a while, she feels strong enough that way. The heavy ache of her old heart has dissipated, leaving something stronger and a little colder in its wake. Maybe she’s just older.

She can fault Hope for a lot of the things, but perhaps the most important is this new heart in her chest, reshaped by loss but sturdy and strong. She’s been made different by the way she loved Hope; by the way Hope tried to love her.

She can fault Hope for a lot of things and she’s forgiven her for each one.

In that forgiveness, she finds freedom.


End file.
